Captive
by pumpkinmoose22
Summary: There was only one solution the King of Camelot could make. "If you spare my men, you can do whatever you want with me."
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: There will be torture scenes in this one - nothing too gruesome or detailed I don't think but a fair warning for anyone that's even mildly squeamish. And, to reassure you, Merlin is NOT the one experiencing it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

"If you spare my men, you can do whatever you want with me."

He knew such an offer would be too irresistible to refuse – especially since Odin had gone to such great lengths to capture him.

The King of Cornwall had been out for Arthur's blood for years; ever since he'd killed his son, Emeric. Arthur had had no quarrel with Cornwall's prince and asked him to withdraw but the man refused to revoke the challenge. They fought and Arthur had walked way the reluctant victor, poisoning Odin with relentless revenge ever since. Odin had even gone so far as to kill Arthur's father. Clearly that murder had not fully satisfied him given Arthur's current predicament: on his knees, his wrists bound behind his back, with his most trusted knights on either side of him. Surrounded by at least fifty enemy soldiers, Arthur knew the only way to get out of this alive was to offer himself as ransom – so he had.

"Sire, you can't –"

"Quiet!" Odin snapped, silencing Leon.

Arthur minutely shook his head at his First Knight before turning his gaze back to Odin. He could practically see the wheels spinning within the man's mind as he paced back and forth. His men shifted a little in anticipation. The King of Cornwall finally twisted around, facing his enemy.

"Do I have your word of honor, Pendragon?"

"If I have yours, then yes."

Odin debated a moment more.

"Very well, from one king to another, you have my word that your men will be spared."

Arthur nodded, relieved. "Then you have my word to do with me as you will."

There was an immediate outcry from his knights.

" _No!"_

" _Sire!"_

" _You can't!"_

" _Silence! All_ of you!" Arthur commanded. "This is _my_ decision and it will _not_ be revoked."

"But you can't honestly expect us to let them take you away!" Gwaine countered.

"I expect you to honor my decision, Gwaine," Arthur growled. "I gave my word of honor and am bound to it."

"As am I to mine," Odin stated, "Although, if I receive any word that the knights of Camelot are tracking us, I'll remove your king's digits one by one for you and the crows to find." Smiling cruelly at their looks of horror to this promise, he turned to two of his soldiers and gestured to Arthur. "Tie this filth to my horse."

They seized Arthur's arms and yanked him to his feet, tying a thick rope around his already bound wrists before shoving him towards Odin's steed. The Pendragon king tried to send his men an encouraging glance as they witnessed the blatant disrespect taking place. Frustration and horror raged within their countenances but – thankfully – none of them dared come to his aid when their bonds were cut.

As he was expertly tied to Odin's saddle, the bound king realized this journey was not going to be at all pleasant; his hands were tied _behind_ his back. If he slacked in his pace or tripped, not only would he hit the earth face-first but his arms would be sure to rip from their sockets as he was dragged along the ground.

If Odin desired to humiliate him, he was succeeding rather well.

"Move out!" Odin shouted, nudging his horse into a healthy trot.

Arthur gritted his teeth and began to jog, praying he wouldn't trip over a loose rock or stray root as he went. Many of Odin's men laughed and jibed at his predicament but Odin thankfully didn't say a word; his snide comments would only add further to Arthur's humiliation.

They traveled swiftly along Camelot's border, skimming Nemeth and entering Alined's lands near sunset.

At this point Arthur had decided that Odin was, by far, the most rancorous, evil toerag he had ever had the displeasure of knowing. The man had alternated between trotting and walking the entire day – the trotting the more prominent pace, forcing Arthur to jog in order to keep up.

Arthur was rather grateful he'd been hunting instead of on a patrol when Odin ambushed them; if he'd had to run like this in his armor and chainmail he would have tasted dirt long ago from the oppressive weight. Still, his blue tunic was soaked in sweat and his leather vest added unwanted weight to his aching shoulders. His feet hurt and his legs throbbed from having to hike over such uneven terrain at such a constant pace. Further sweat fell into his eyes and down his nose; not for the first time did he wish he could wipe the annoying drops away. In short, he was utterly miserable when the time finally came to make camp – though he wasn't about to let any of these devils see that. He stood tall, forcing himself to breathe through his nose.

Odin removed himself from the saddle and left Arthur in the care of a servant. They pulled him towards a tree and thrust him rather roughly to the ground. Securing the rope to the tree's trunk, the servant left, disappearing into the crowd of men to help throw out bedrolls and start various fires. A couple of guards were placed three feet from the captive king but Arthur hardly took notice of them; he was simply content to finally be off his feet.

Leaning forward, he tried to ignore the sting from his wrists as the rope rubbed against his raw skin. How he wished he could move his arms from behind his back! His clothes were soaked and his feet longed to be out of his boots. If only he could remove them! Arthur closed his eyes and ground his teeth together. He'd refused to speak to Odin the whole torturous journey for three reasons: one, his pride wouldn't allow it; two, he didn't want to accidentally bite his tongue; and three, he didn't want to end up gagged, losing one of his airways to breathe.

A sigh of discomfort was released unbidden from his lungs as the smells of delicious stew drifted passed his nostrils from the nearest campfire. His stomach growled and his mouth longed for water but the king refused to ask for either. He would not stoop to begging. Detained or not, he was a king. He would not show weakness to these rats.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, he dared look up. The servant that had tied him to the tree was back with a bowl of soup and waterskin in hand.

"King Odin requests the prisoner be untied and nourished," he said to the guards.

One rested the point of his sword against Arthur's throat while the other set to work untying him. Ripples of pain ran up Arthur's back and shoulders as his arms were finally released and the king forced himself not to hiss or rub his aching wrists as he brought them around to rest in his lap. Both guards kept their swords pointed dangerously close as he took the food and water from the servant and began to eat.

The stew was nothing compared to Merlin's but he wasn't about to complain; food was food and he'd be a fool to refuse what had been given. He finished the soup and emptied the waterskin without a word to the servant or guards – though he did mutter a thank you when the young man took the bowl and waterskin away. The servant stared at him in surprise before nodding his head and ordering the guards to bind him with his hands in front.

As his wrists were once again forced together, Arthur wondered if the retreating young man was Odin's manservant. He wasn't as lanky as his and he certainly didn't possess any of Merlin's insubordination but he had been brave enough to look the guards in the eye when relaying Odin's orders. His short curly hair was the color of earth and his eyes, a sea green; so different compared to Merlin's untidy black hair and remarkable blue irises. Merlin would have chatted to him even if he was a prisoner but this man had held his silence. Arthur's thoughts turned to the last time he'd seen his servant. It had been almost a week ago.

Guinevere had more or less bullied him into allowing Merlin a week off after she'd found out the man hadn't seen his mother in over a year. Arthur hadn't realized it had been that long or he would have allowed Merlin a reprieve months ago. It had been like pulling teeth to get him to go too; the idiot never did as he was told. He was too stubborn for his own good. It was only after a great amount of persuasion from multiple sources that he finally consented to leave.

Arthur never would admit it out loud but he missed Merlin. He'd missed him the second the fool's horse had disappeared from the castle courtyard. Arthur had been stuck with George – brass-joke-loving, _immaculately perfect_ , George – and he hated every minute he'd had to spend with the man. He was too clean, too silent, too proper and _not_ Merlin.

Arthur had nearly thrown a fit when George had woken him on time with a breakfast that could rival a feast, having already laid out his clothes and polished his armor to perfection. When George tried to help him comb his hair, Arthur threw him from the room, mortified. He'd complained to his amused wife for over an hour, going so far as to entertain the idea of saddling a horse and chasing after his manservant with all due speed. Guinevere eventually calmed him down and even managed to get him to accept George for the remainder of Merlin's absence; the king had never succumbed to bribery before but what Guinevere had offered, well, he would have been a fool to refuse.

Arthur sighed, thinking of his wife. They'd been married now for two wonderful years and Camelot had, unexpectedly, been spared from any great catastrophe during that time. Sure, they still had the occasional magical beast to vanquish and the usual hardships that came with winter but on the whole they'd been surprisingly blessed. He supposed it was about time the peace was disturbed; he just didn't think it would have resulted in him being kidnapped by an enemy, invoking an act of war.

Arthur was sure his knights would stage some kind of rescue but the question he had to ask was would they do so themselves or would they return to Camelot to gather reinforcements? The latter seemed more likely. The king drew to the conclusion that, regardless of what they chose to do, a rescue was going to take a while. This also led to the acceptance that there was every chance he might not survive this. Odin wanted his blood. He could have killed him right then and there in the forest but instead he had decided to humiliate him. This only led to the conclusion that the villain wanted him to suffer as much as possible before rewarding him with death.

 _Entertaining yourself with morbid thoughts will not help the situation, you know._

Great, he was thinking to himself now? That was never a good sign. But why did the irritating thought have to sound exactly like Merlin?

 _Probably because he's your voice of reason._

 _Shut up!_

Arthur scowled. He was having a conversation with himself. If Merlin ever found out, he'd tease him for weeks.

Leaning back against the tree, he focused on trying to get some sleep. He would have entertained the idea of an escape plan but he was too exhausted to try anything anyway. Even if he did manage to break himself free – which would be hard since the guards had been clever enough to tie the rope underneath his wrists – his exhaustion would prevent him from getting very far. Groaning over his predicament, Arthur blocked out the sounds of laughter coming from Odin's camp and fell into a restless sleep.

::

Arthur was rudely woken from his pitiful sleep by a boot to his stomach. Coughing, the king desperately tried to regain his bearings as he was yanked to his feet. Odin's sneer greeted him.

"I trust you slept well, Pendragon?"

"Hardly," Arthur snapped.

It was the truth after all; the night chill combined with the roots from the tree had provided a lethal combination for an unhealthy rest. Odin's mouth twitched and his eyes flashed with satisfaction.

"Let's hope you are rested enough to ride."

He motioned to a horse nearby that was already saddled. Arthur's eyebrows drew together in confusion and he couldn't help but goad the man.

"Compassion, Odin? And here I thought you were going to make me run the whole way."

"If you'd rather, I could easily arrange it," Odin snapped, his eyes flashing due to Arthur's impudence. "Unfortunately, my desire to reach Cornwall outstretches that of watching you suffer on the road."

"I take it Alined would not be too enthused to learn you've crossed into his lands uninvited," Arthur deduced.

Odin scowled and turned to some nearby soldiers. Arthur counted his assumption as truth and inwardly smirked in victory.

"After he mounts, retie his hands behind his back," Odin ordered, "and gag him," he added, sending Arthur a vicious glare before striding away.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur somewhat regretted provoking his captor. The horse he rode was being guided by another and, due to Odin's desire to cross as much terrain as possible, Arthur was left bouncing around in the saddle. His knees were the only thing keeping him in place as he leaned slightly forward to prevent his hands from repeatedly hitting the back of his mount. His shoulders screamed in protest and his mouth ached from the cloth that wound tightly across his cheeks behind his head.

They rode for hours, driving the horses until the beasts heaved with exhaustion, foam freely dripping from their mouths onto the forest floor. Arthur's body was nearly as spent as his horse when Odin finally decided to make camp. Camelot's king was pulled from his mount and once again tied to a tree. Arthur's knees felt like small needles were repeatedly stabbing him, his arms experiencing a similar sensation. Like yesterday, the brown haired servant appeared with food and water and Arthur was temporarily freed from his bonds. When the cloth was removed from his mouth, it took a moment for his sore jaw to loosen so he could actually eat.

Arthur took his time, relishing in having his arms free. One of the guards smacked his boot with their own, hinting that he was trying their patience with his slow progress on the stew. Arthur scowled at the guard but refused to quicken his pace; he was going to enjoy his temporary liberation as much as possible.

His insolence rewarded him with a firm kick in the stomach after he was once again secured to the tree. It took a great deal of effort not to throw up everything he'd just eaten but Arthur proudly remained the victor. He needed the nourishment and some pesky guard's impatience was not going to rob him of it. Coughing a bit, he settled on his side and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way the roots ground into his skin.

He was just beginning to drift off when a rough pair of hands wrenched him into a sitting position. Arthur looked up to find himself surrounded by five rather menacing looking men. Despite their obvious intent, Arthur raised an annoyed eyebrow.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, gentlemen?"

The one in the middle with beefy hands and atrocious teeth answered.

"King Odin has given us permission to get you comfortable, Pendragon scum."

Arthur didn't like that ominous answer at all. None of the men had weapons, thankfully, but a physical beating could be just as detrimental if left unrestrained. He didn't have anything to defend himself – Odin had stripped him of all his weapons (including the dagger in his boot) – and he was at a severe disadvantage with his hands tied as they were. He also had to remind himself that he gave his word that Odin could do with him as he wished. He was beginning to regret that decision.

Still, he wasn't afraid of what these men were about to do. He was the King of Camelot and would bear whatever beating they had in store, no matter the severity, with an iron will. Odin may be able to physically harm him but he couldn't touch his spirit. That was unbreakable.

Courage burning within his heart, Arthur glared up at the soldiers and smirked.

"Do your worst."

The ruffians took his challenge to heart because they didn't hold back. They left his face relatively untouched, going instead for his torso, back, arms, and legs. With each blow they taunted him with insults and vulgarity but Arthur rewarded them with nothing but hisses and suppressed groans.

He would not break…

He _would_ _not_ break…

::

Arthur didn't know when he slipped into unconsciousness but his reprieve from reality was rudely interrupted by a bucket of cold water. Gasping, he bolted upright but immediately regretted it. Pain blossomed and he doubled over, hugging his chest. The second he touched his ribs, he hissed and removed the pressure. They were either fractured or broken; he was sure of it.

"My, my, from that sound I take it my men followed my orders to the letter."

Arthur grit his teeth. He would not give this vile man the satisfaction to continuing his gloating. Masking the pain of his injuries, he sat up straight and stared defiantly into Odin's eyes. His lack of discomfort gained the desired effect as Odin's cruel smile vanished into a disgruntled scowl. Twisting to the guard, he commanded for Arthur to once again be tied and gagged after mounting his horse. It took everything ounce of pride not to groan and slump in the saddle once Arthur had successfully mounted.

They stopped only to water the horses and stretch their legs – well, everyone but Arthur; as a prisoner, he was not given the same reprieve. The sun was nearing the horizon when the walls of Cornwall's capital came into view. Arthur begrudgingly took the time to appreciate just how great Odin's stronghold was. The outer wall matched that of the castle: thick, gray, and formidable to any attempting to conquer it. Tall towers jutted out of the citadel, their rounded edges displaying flags of Odin's crest and a number of hawk-like sentries ready for any threat.

The city's people looked well cared for but terror mirrored every face at the sight of Odin and his entourage. Arthur watched as they hastily dropped into bows and curtsies, their eyes averted and their forms slightly trembling as their king passed. The atmosphere was the exact opposite to Camelot. Arthur's people loved him and he them but Odin demanded fear and respect – the same that Arthur's father had. It was sad, in a way, and Arthur found himself silently pitying Odin. Fear could only motivate a man so far but love… love could withstand the test of time.

They reached the citadel and Odin dismounted, passing his reins to a frightened stable boy without acknowledgement.

"Sir Ethan!"

A young knight with short brown hair removed himself from the entourage and approached Odin, bowing before him.

"Sire?"

"Escort the prisoner to the cells and see that Alice tends to his wounds."

"Yes, Sire," Sir Ethan muttered, turning his attentions to Arthur.

Camelot's king dismounted his horse without aid, staring after Odin as he entered the castle surrounded by his council and advisers. All of them glanced periodically at Arthur with varying degrees of wicked glee. Arthur glared in response until Sir Ethan blocked them from his view. He looked to be around Elyan's age with a barrel chest, muscular arms, and a square face. His eyes were brown and hard as he stared at the king. Arthur raised a defiant eyebrow.

Sir Ethan's thick eyebrows drew together as his scowl pulled heavily at the corners of his mouth. Seizing Arthur by the arm, he yanked him forward and proceeded to drag him down to the dungeons. Arthur memorized the route as they went: _straight, right, left, stairs, left, right, stairs_. If any opportunity arrived for him to escape, he needed to know exactly how to get out of this place.

The cells turned out to be worse than those in Camelot. While Camelot's dungeon provided barred windows and one barred wall to gaze through, Cornwall sported four stone walls, chained manacles, and a wooden door with a small barred peek hole. The guards assigned to the dungeon kept their spears at Arthur's throat as Sir Ethan replaced the rope around his wrists with the cell's manacles and removed his gag. Once secured, the men of Cornwall left, slamming the door closed behind them.

The moment they were gone, Arthur's strength utterly left him and he slumped to the ground, the chains rattling as he settled against the wall. He ached something fierce! His ribs throbbed, he had a splitting headache, and his stomach growled with hunger. At least his hands weren't tied behind his back any longer.

Arthur grit his teeth as he once again tried to take stock of his injuries. He gingerly lifted his shirt and squinted, attempting to see in the miniscule light from the door how badly his chest was bruised. His eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, however, so he gave up and just slumped further.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to remember the path leading to the dungeons. _Straight, right, left, left_ – no, there had been stairs first. Yes. He started over: _straight, right, left, stairs, left…_ right? Or had it been another left? No, it had definitely been right because he'd almost clipped his shoulder on the corner. That's right! He started again: _straight, right, left, stairs, left, right, stairs_. Yes! That was it!

 _Straight, right, left, stairs, left, right, stairs._

 _Straight, right, left, stairs, left, right, stairs._

He was still repeating the mantra under his breath when the cell door opened again. Arthur hissed from the onslaught of light, turning away and blinking furiously to get used to the change. He heard someone shuffling towards him and he forced himself to scrutinize who it was. He would not allow anyone to sneak up on him.

It was a woman. She appeared to be in her late sixties, her brown hair streaked with gray, wrinkles surrounding her gray blue eyes and full lips. Arthur's brow furrowed. He recognized this woman.

"You!" he cried.

"King Arthur," she curtsied, "it has been many years."

"You tried to kill my father!"

"No," the old woman countered, "I was being controlled. It was the manticore – a creature of the Old Religion – that tried to do that."

"There was no creature! You were lying then and you're lying now. What are you doing here?"

"I am not lying but, seeing that you won't believe me either way, I'll not waste my breath arguing further with you. My name is Alice and I am King Odin's Court Healer."

She set down a medicine bag and reached for Arthur's shirt.

"Don't touch me, sorceress!" Arthur commanded, shying away from her, his chains rattling.

Alice leaned back and scowled.

"You can either let me do my job willingly or I'll have the guards restrain you forcefully. Either way, I _am_ going to heal you so you might as well save yourself from the embarrassment and let me work."

Arthur stared. The last time he'd met this woman, she'd seemed timid and afraid but now she stood with a sort of power and authority. Part of him felt like he'd just been scolded by Gaius. Scowling, Arthur glared at her.

"You're going to use magic on me."

"Yes."

"What if I refuse treatment?"

Alice sighed, exasperated. "You don't have a choice. Shall I call the guards?"

Arthur stiffened. He was not going to be held down while this woman used magic on him! But, even if he wasn't restrained, she was going to use it anyway. It seemed, either way, he didn't have much choice.

"Your Majesty, may I be frank?"

Arthur looked up at her and stiffly nodded; at least she'd respectfully asked before just spewing forth her lies.

"Contrary to what you have been taught, not all magic is evil," Alice said, her gaze sad.

Arthur immediately scoffed. "Magic corrupts. I've seen enough to know that for myself."

"You have been the victim of revenge and misunderstanding," Alice continued as she began to rummage through her bag, pulling out several bottles and a clean cloth, "and I am sorry I only added to your beliefs. But my last visit to Camelot was not my usual practice. I heal. I do not hurt. As I said, the manticore controlled me, twisting the knowledge of my healing remedies for its own wicked purpose."

"Let's say that this _imaginary creature_ you keep hiding behind was real," Arthur grumbled as he reluctantly removed his shirt under her indication, "Why did it control you? Why not simply attack my father itself?"

Alice was rubbing two different powders and several herbs into the cloth as she answered, "Manticores are creatures of the Old Religion. They dwell within the spirit world and can only be summoned into our world through a magic portal – and even then they cannot live for long outside of their own realm. Because of this, the beast could not come after Uther itself so it used me instead."

"Fair enough," Arthur muttered, not really believing her but humoring her anyway. "But, if what you say is true, then you would have had to summon it. What were your intentions in so doing?"

"I am a healer, Sire," she sadly smiled. "Manticores are powerful creatures. I believed I could use its power for good – for healing. But while trying to study it, its magic overpowered mine. I became its puppet and it exploited my relationship with Gaius to get vengeance on your father."

"Wait," Arthur frowned, "What relationship with Gaius? You knew each other? I thought you were merely attempting to be his assistant to get into the castle."

The sadness in Alice's countenance increased tenfold. She looked away from him, pouring a small dose of water over the now soiled cloth before whispering a spell.

 _ **Ábregdan! Onginnan æt gelácnian."**_

Arthur flinched away from her as her eyes turned sorcerer gold. The cloth in her hand took on a bluish hue and she bent forward, holding the cloth out towards him.

"Don't touch me with that!" Arthur hissed, backing into the wall, his eyes wide with fear.

She claimed to be a healer but the only experience he'd had with this woman was her poisoning his father. This had to be a trick. Odin wanted to magically torture him too. That's what this was. Even though Uther had been dead for several years, Alice had failed to kill him so she was just settling for the next best thing: killing his son. She placed the cloth against his arm…

Arthur grit his teeth, expecting pain, but nothing of the sort occurred. In fact, as she gently rubbed the cloth back and forth against his limb, the ache in the muscles instantly vanished. Arthur stared in disbelief as the purple bruises over the surface of his skin dissolved. What would have taken weeks to heal was gone with the simple motion of an enchanted cloth.

"Gaius and I… were once engaged," Alice revealed as she started on Arthur's other arm.

"What?!" Arthur yelped, temporarily pulled from his mesmerized stare over his newly healed limb.

Alice weakly chuckled as she continued her ministrations.

"It was so long ago, now," she mused.

"What happened?" Arthur asked quietly, finding it rather difficult to even imagine Gaius with a wife. It just didn't compute.

"The Purge," Alice answered bluntly. "I practiced healing in Camelot. When magic became illegal, Gaius found out that I was one of Uther's suspects and provided a way for me to flee the city."

"But… he didn't go with you?" Arthur wondered, confused.

If he had experienced a similar situation with Guinevere he would have dropped everything to be with her, crown or not. In fact, he _had_. When she had been framed for using magic, he'd relinquished his right to the throne – not that that went over well.

"Why didn't he leave?"

Alice started healing his back. The relief of the pain in his shoulders almost put Arthur to sleep, he was so content. But – _wait_ – this was _magic_. Magic was _evil!_

And yet, how could providing relief to pain be an act of wickedness?

"Gaius was afraid that if he left, Uther would think he had betrayed him," Alice answered after a pause, "He did not want to risk the king hunting him – and consequently me – so he stayed behind. He felt he had no choice, really. I do not blame him; though I wish that things could have been different."

The Purge had ruined Gaius and this woman's future. Arthur felt rather conflicted. He didn't know if he should apologize or remain silent. While Alice had broken the law by practicing magic and been forced to assist an attempted murder of his father, she didn't seem like a bad person. And Gaius certainly had Arthur's trust. But magic was evil. His father had taught him that since birth. He'd seen it with his own eyes, hundreds of times.

 _Ah_ , said the small voice that sounded like Merlin, _but, if it was truly evil, then how are you being healed by it?_

 _It's a trick!_ Arthur replied. _It has to be!_

 _See for yourself, I suppose._

 _Shut up!_

Though he had to agree with the voice's suggestion. Once Alice was gone and he was left alone, he could see if the 'healing' she had been doing was actually an evil luring him into a false sense of security or merely what she claimed it to be: healing and nothing more.

The two of them lapsed into silence, Alice rubbing every bruised and battered part of his body with the magic cloth while Arthur watched and felt the healing work through his skin and bones. When she'd finished, she handed him a waterskin and a piece of bread.

"I'm afraid that's all I'm allowed to give you," she muttered with a heavy frown.

"I would normally say thank you," Arthur muttered.

"But since I'm a sorceress you feel conflicted about showing good manners," she guessed though she didn't seem angry, just resigned.

Arthur sighed.

"I can't ignore what I've experienced for myself," he defended. "Magic corrupts."

"No," Alice countered. "It simply is. _Choice_ corrupts, Arthur Pendragon. It is what we do, not what we possess, that separates the good from the evil."

Arthur frowned. He didn't have an answer for that so he busied himself with the waterskin. Its contents were gone in three gulps. Alice took the empty container back and stood.

"Magic works wonders," she stated, "but you are not fully healed."

Arthur stiffened.

"What?"

"Magic can only do so much in the art of healing. The human body has its own healing process and must complete what I could not. You need to rest. The aches and pains may be gone but you are still physically exhausted and in need of energy."

That wasn't a lie. Even now Arthur's fatigue was catching up to him.

Alice glanced over her shoulder at the open door before leaning forward and quickly whispering, "Your Majesty, I am afraid that you will not have much of a reprieve."

"What do you mean?"

"This is Odin's way," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder again. "He has me heal his prisoners but then beats them half to death shortly after I finish. The repeated process of beating and healing puts too much strain on the body. If you do not find a way to escape," she paused, "Sire, you're going to die."

"Are you finished, Alice?"

The healer straightened and stepped back, revealing Odin in the doorway.

"I am, my lord," she replied, her head bowed.

"I'll send for you later then," Odin said, dismissing her.

Alice sent Arthur one last fearful glance before leaving the cell. Arthur stood and folded his arms, staring at Odin defiantly. Though he didn't want to admit it, the healing _had_ done wonders; the aching pain in every joint and muscle was gone.

"Alice has been in my employ for about a year," Odin said. "Her mastery in the art of healing has no equal. I believe you will be seeing a lot of her in the coming days."

Arthur snorted and pretended to guess what Odin was hinting at.

"What, are you going to beat me near death then have her heal me?"

Odin raised a surprised brow.

"Your assumption is correct, Pendragon."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Arthur challenged.

He knew he was being stupid. He shouldn't goad Odin, not when he was at his mercy, but he just couldn't bring himself to appear weak before this man. He'd killed his father. He would not allow him the satisfaction of breaking him any more than he already had.

Odin's answering smile was sadistic and evil.

"Eagerness will only bring you closer to death."

Arthur jutted out his chin in silent invitation, daring Odin to do something. The King of Cornwall's sneer became a scowl. Angered and provoked, he shouted over his shoulder.

"Rowen!"

A man appeared in the doorway. He was as big as Percival, his body loaded down with all sorts of weapons from a whip at his hip to an ax on his back. Arthur swallowed. Just what exactly were they going to do to him?

"It would seem our guest is eager for a demonstration of your talents," Odin smirked. "Why not bestow him with a taste of your special hospitality?"

Rowen displayed a yellow grin, his black eyes glittering with malicious intent. Oily black hair was slicked back by dirty fingernails as he reached for a mallet hanging from his belt.

"With pleasure, Sire," he said, his voice sickeningly sweet.

Arthur didn't even have time to brace himself. Rowen crossed the small space in three strides, ripped one of Arthur's arms away from his chest, and slammed it against the wall. Shoving his body over Arthur's, he pinned him in such a way that prevented the king from seeing exactly what he was about to do. Pain like Arthur never felt before exploded as his right hand was suddenly crushed beneath Rowen's mallet. He screamed and instinctively tried to wriggle free but the mallet came down again, crushing his hand once more. Another scream ripped from Arthur's throat and tears pricked at his eyes. Rowen released his arm and Arthur instantly withdrew it to his chest, cradling the now destroyed appendage. The swollen, red skin over his fingers and palm had cut open in several places, exposing blood and bone; some of the digits were hanging at impossible angles.

Odin's laughter echoed throughout the cell and it took everything Arthur had to force his horrified tears away and glare up at his captors. Cornwall's king was not fooled by his display.

"That was merely a taste, Pendragon," he gloated. "We've only just begun. Rowen, the usual, if you would."

Arthur pressed himself against the wall but there was nowhere to flee – no way for him to defend himself. His dominant hand had been crushed. While he could still fight fairly well with his left, he knew it would do little good in the end. So the King of Camelot squared his shoulders and prepared himself for the worst. He'd been taught the methods of (and defenses against) torture as part of his training when a prince. Now was the time to see how well he'd studied.

Rowen descended upon him like a wraith from the underworld and, as he began 'the usual', as Odin put it, Arthur thought he'd been transported directly into the fiery pits of Hell itself.

The pain was beyond imaginable, his tormentor using knives, curled metal rods, an ax, the mallet, and the whip to bruise, rip, and dig into his flesh and bones. Sweat mixed with blood, stinging the wounds, eliciting further pain. The king's agonized screams bounced off the walls but, deep within, his spirit remained unbroken _. He would not give in!_ He merely needed to release his pain. So he did, the only way he could: by thrashing and screaming while his body was mutilated under Odin's sadistic eye.

* * *

 **Spell:** Activate! Begin to heal.

 **Review please; more to come soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites, and followings to this story and it's first chapter. I hope you all like this one. Please leave a thought or two! I love hearing your reactions and responses.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

Chapter 02

Merlin was in the middle of helping his mother prepare dinner when he felt it. His magic screamed within his veins, speeding the beats of his heart and painfully clenching his stomach in knots. Desperation and terror licked his insides, his magic shouting at him in warning: _his destiny was in peril!_

Merlin dropped the knife and the potato he'd been working on.

"Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes were wide, his breathing unsteady.

"Merlin, what is it?" Hunith demanded, taking his head in her hands.

Merlin removed them.

" _Arthur,"_ he breathed before bolting out the door.

He was already halfway on his horse when his mother caught up with him.

"Merlin, _what_ is going on?"

"Arthur's in trouble. I'm sorry, mother, but I have to go."

Understanding lit her soft eyes and she nodded supportively.

"Then go."

Merlin sent her one last apologetic glance before kicking his heels into his horse's sides. Artax shot off like a griffin, racing past the few wandering villagers and into the woods.

Arthur had gifted the brown stallion to Merlin for his last birthday; quite the surprise since he hadn't been expecting anything at all from anyone. Though Merlin learned this later from the knights, Arthur had given him a horse that was meant for a king. Artax had been sired by one of the greatest war horses in the kingdom and he definitely lived up to his reputation. Merlin had been quite touched by the lengths Arthur had gone for him and promised to cherish Artax for the rest of his days. Warlock and horse had bonded instantly and it was at times like this that Merlin appreciated that bond the most; Artax sensed his need and pushed his body to the limit to meet it.

Merlin didn't know what had happened to Arthur but he knew it wasn't good. His magic usually spiked in warning whenever he was in danger but this… the strength behind the need to protect the king was beyond anything Merlin had ever felt before. Fear gripped his heart as his mind was harrowed up with waking nightmares all ending in Arthur's death.

"We must reach Camelot as quickly as possible, Artax!" he cried, leaning forward in the saddle.

The horse whinnied in response and went, if possible, even faster.

As the sun descended towards the horizon, Merlin growled, refusing to stop. He'd ride all night if Artax was up to it, and, when he checked on the horse, he was somewhat surprised to find his energy hadn't depleted in the slightest. Patting his neck and whispering appreciation and encouragement in his ear, Merlin focused on the darkening road ahead. When it became too hard to see with natural light, he created several balls of energy to illuminate the path.

It normally took a day and a half to reach Camelot from his hometown but Merlin and Artax managed it in half the time; how they did, Merlin didn't know, but he didn't pause to think or care. The early rays of dawn painted the sky over the white citadel in a soft orange summer glow. Normally the sight of such splendor would be enjoyed and appreciated but Merlin didn't have time to do so. He urged Artax through the city's open gates. The early risers leapt out of the streets to let him pass, each staring at him in bewilderment.

Merlin reached the courtyard and pulled Artax to a halt. The horse was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring, foam falling freely from his mouth. Merlin dismounted and immediately held the horse's head.

"You were brilliant, Artax," he praised in a soft murmur. "Here, a gift for all you've done."

He closed his eyes and whispered a spell that would restore the horse's energy. It would take about an hour to fully take effect but Merlin figured that was plenty of time for him to find out just what had happened to the other side of his coin.

Leaving Artax in the hands of a stable boy, Merlin leapt up the steps two at a time. He ran down the corridor towards the king's chambers and, once there, flung them open without invitation. The room, however, was empty. Merlin's panic spiked. There was no way Arthur would be up this early – unless the kingdom was in peril.

Twisting on his heel, he ran back out into the corridor towards the council chambers. The guards posted on either side of the closed doors didn't have a chance to stop him as he pushed his way inside. The force with which he opened the doors was surprising, the wood slamming into the walls and eliciting a shriek of surprise. Merlin didn't even think of apologizing as he surveyed the room.

 _Come on, dollophead, where are you?!_

But Arthur's golden head was nowhere to be found. Gwen was standing with her hand on her heart at her customary spot at the Round Table. Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Leon, and Gaius were also seated around it.

"My lady, we apologize," came a voice behind Merlin, "he just barged in."

The guards seized him and Merlin began to struggle, angrily snapping, _"Get off!"_

"Let him go," Gwen ordered and Merlin was instantly released. "Leave us, please."

"Where is he?" Merlin demanded before the doors had even closed.

"Merlin, how did you get here? You're not due back from Ealdor until the day after tomorrow," said Gwen.

"Where is he, Gwen?" he repeated, not bothering to explain himself.

Everyone shared a wary glance. They knew to whom he was referring but none of them wanted to be the bearer of bad news. It was Leon who shouldered the burden in the end.

"We're not sure," he confessed, "but we believe him to be in Cornwall."

"Cornwall?" Merlin faintly repeated. "Odin's lands?"

"We were on a hunting trip," Gwaine hastily explained, "Odin ambushed us. Arthur offered himself up in exchange for our lives."

"And you let him go?!" Merlin thundered.

"Merlin, calm down!" Gaius warned.

Merlin's magic was simmering just under his skin, screaming to get out, to do something – _anything_ – but he couldn't. Not here. Not in front of his friends.

"Merlin, how did you know Arthur was in trouble?" Gwen asked, her eyes slightly narrowed. "I didn't find out myself until ten minutes ago when the knights returned."

Merlin's panic transformed from worrying about Arthur to worrying about his secret. Gaius was glaring at him, his expression clearly proclaiming Merlin to be an idiot. And he was an idiot; he had no explanation that would be convincing enough to hide the truth.

"Well – you see –"

Merlin faltered. All these years of lying and suddenly his tongue was like iron: heavy and useless in his mouth. The knights had unconsciously risen from their chairs, each of them eyeing Merlin apprehensively. Gwen's eyes narrowed further in suspicion.

"Perhaps you are not really Merlin at all," she proclaimed. "Sorcery has changed people's appearances before in this citadel. Who are you?"

Merlin blinked as he watched the knights draw their swords and advance on him. Panicked, he looked to Gaius for help.

"My lady, you may be mistaken," the physician began.

"Merlin is in Ealdor, Gaius. He would have had no way of knowing Arthur was in danger," Gwen stated. "Not until we sent word – and even then it takes a day and a half to reach his hometown."

"I got here in less than a day," Merlin countered.

"Impossible," Leon scoffed. "Not even the swiftest horse is capable of such a feat."

 _Open mouth, insert foot, Merlin!_ He silently cursed himself.

Because it was only then that he realized he must have unconsciously used some kind of magic to speed his way here. Thinking on it, _logically_ , Leon was right; it _was_ impossible to cover such a great distance without the aid of magical means. Even if one pushed their horse to the limit, there was a need to stop for sleep and replenish oneself and their horse. He must have manipulated time somehow but he couldn't tell them that! His escape window was growing smaller by the second. The knights were drawing closer still and Gwen looked as if she was on the verge of shouting, "Seize him!"

For the first time, Merlin realized that the truth might be the only way to get out of this. He didn't want to fight the knights – nor did he have the time for it. Arthur was in trouble – especially if he was with Odin! He'd killed Odin's son and the man was desperate for revenge. He wouldn't keep Arthur alive for long and Merlin was wasting precious time fumbling for a weak excuse to explain his sudden appearance. That was when realization dawned: this was it.

This was the moment.

A strange calm seemed to settle over his shoulders, as if the arms of Destiny herself were wrapping him in a secure embrace. Merlin let out a sigh and a weary smile, raising his eyes to meet Gaius. The old physician looked exactly how Merlin had always expected to feel: stark white and downright terrified. He frantically shook his head.

"No, Merlin," he cried, "Now is not the time."

"It is, Gaius," he declared, his voice strong, mature, and not even the least bit scared. "My days of living in the shadows are at an end."

" _No,"_ Gaius mourned.

"Gaius, what is going on?" Gwen demanded, looking worriedly between him and Merlin.

"It's alright, Gwen," Merlin assured as he took a step towards her.

The knights blocked his way, each holding a protective stance.

"Come no farther," Leon warned.

Merlin frowned.

"Leon, we don't have time for this! Arthur is in grave danger and we must get to him at once! Odin will not keep him alive for long – his hatred is too deep. Now, you can either come with me or I will go alone. Either way, I _am_ going to save him and you're not going to stop me from doing so."

There was a pregnant pause and then –

"That's Merlin," Gwaine declared, immediately sheathing his sword. "That insane loyalty can't be faked. I don't care how much magic one does possess – they could never replicate that."

"You're right," Gwen agreed, though her eyes swirled with confusion, "but that doesn't explain how you knew about Arthur, Merlin."

Merlin let out a sigh as the rest of the knights relaxed.

 _Here goes nothing._

"I really would have loved to sit down and discuss this but we don't have the time so I'm just going to come out and say it."

" _No,_ Merlin!" Gaius protested.

"Gaius, I have to," Merlin sadly smiled. "It's time. You know it is."

The two shared a loaded gaze before the protective love in the physician finally coiled under Merlin's determination. Gaius nodded and Merlin sighed. He faced his friends.

"I'm a sorcerer," he declared.

The room was frozen in time and then–

"Well, it's about time!" Gwaine declared, his famous grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I wondered if you were ever going to tell me, mate!"

Merlin gaped at him.

"Um – _what?"_

"You _knew?"_ Gaius accused.

"Yep," Gwaine laughed, "from the very beginning. Plates don't just fly around taverns by themselves. Clever to do so during a fight, though; I don't think anyone saw your eyes light up except me."

"You've known this whole time," Merlin muttered, stunned, "and you never said anything?"

Gwaine shrugged. "There was no need to. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready and I have no quarrels with magic – even if I am a Knight of Camelot."

"I, too, have known."

Everyone whirled around to Percival who was standing tall with a warm smile on his face.

"I've known since the Dorocha," he confessed. "I suspected before that from the way Lancelot spoke of you, Merlin, but it was when you survived the Dorocha that I knew."

Merlin's knees shook and he looked at the others in the room.

"I didn't know," Elyan said, rather hurt.

"Nor I," stated Leon.

But it was the voice of the Queen that broke Merlin's heart.

"Why did you never tell _me?"_

Merlin looked at her. Gwen had moved around the table and was now standing a stone's throw away. Merlin had expected to see anger in her eyes but all he saw was compassion, pity, and hurt.

"I'm your _friend_ , Merlin," she said. "Did you really think I would have treated you any differently had I known?"

Merlin gently reached out and took her shoulders.

"No," he stated truthfully, "You are too kind and good to think ill of me, Gwen."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" she demanded.

"To protect you," Merlin answered, eager for her to understand, "I couldn't risk your safety. It was dangerous enough for Gaius to know. If Uther found out I was a sorcerer and that you knew, you would have burned beside me on the pyre."

Gwen sighed, her face drawn with weariness. She looked resigned but then anger swirled behind her eyes and she swatted Merlin's chest, surprising him.

"Then why didn't you say anything after Uther died or when I became Queen?"

"And divide you and Arthur?" Merlin asked incredulously, "I'd rather take on an army of serkets! There was no way I was going to make you lie to him every day. I've had to do that since the day I met him and believe me, it's no picnic."

"So he doesn't know."

Merlin turned to see Leon staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. The warlock let out a heavy sigh.

"No, Leon, he doesn't…" – Merlin straightened his shoulders – "But he will soon."

Gwen gasped.

"You're going to free him – with magic?"

"It's my destiny," Merlin declared, and, though he didn't know it, magic began to flow around him as he spoke. Gwen and the knights took a few steps back but Gaius looked on his surrogate son with pride. "I will not let Arthur fall," he continued, "Not after I've sacrificed everything to see him get this far. He can't skip out on me yet, the Prat, though he may be trying to as we speak. Please, will you come with me? I'd rather not use my magic until I absolutely have to."

"I'm not letting you go without me!" said Gwaine at once with an excited grin. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to see what you can really do? I'm coming!"

Percival stepped forward and nodded to him, smiling just as warmly as Gwaine. Elyan shared a glance with his sister before also agreeing to tag along. Merlin looked to Leon. Out of all the knights, he feared Leon's reaction the most. The First Knight had been under Uther's command before Arthur and fought against many magical practitioners. It was quite possible that he would stand against him.

It therefore came as a surprise when Leon smiled and said, "My views concerning magic have changed ever since the druids healed me. Though I am still wary towards sorcerers, I feel I can trust you, Merlin. You're loyalty to Arthur has solidified that."

"But, how do you know that's real?" Merlin wondered.

Gwaine guffawed.

"Please, the moment you aren't loyal to Princess is the day I give up drinking!"

Everyone laughed.

"He's right, Merlin," Gwen smiled. "We all know your devotion to Arthur is not a ruse. Besides, the number of times you could have killed him and yet he still stands… that's enough for me to know that my husband is safe with you."

Merlin was overcome. Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled over.

"Sorry," he let out a watery chuckle, "I just wasn't expecting this."

"What were you expecting? Torches and pitchforks?" Gwaine teased. "Come on, mate, you need to pull yourself together. We've got a princess to save after all."

Right.

Arthur still needed him.

Merlin stemmed his tears and nodded.

"Are you all ready to go?"

"We don't exactly know where Odin took him," Leon began but Merlin smiled.

"Don't worry about that. Leave the trail to me."

Gwaine turned to Percival with a full-on grin.

"This is going to be the best rescue mission we've ever been on!"

::

Gwen stood next to Merlin as he was about to mount Artax. The horse had had plenty of time to recuperate. Gwen expressed her concern over maybe using a different horse but when Merlin quietly explained his earlier energy spell, the queen shook her head and laughed.

"I feel like I'm getting to know a whole new side of you," she said.

"You are," he confirmed.

Gwen suddenly became rather serious. She stared intently into his eyes, her gaze unwavering and filled with faith. It took Merlin a moment to realize that faith was in _him_.

"Bring him home, Merlin."

He stared at her a moment more, marveling in the trust she was displaying. It warmed his heart to know that Gwen had immediately accepted who he truly was. She had been his first friend in Camelot. If she had rejected him, there would be no hope at all that anyone else would – but she hadn't and now things seemed so much brighter.

"I won't fail him or you, Gwen," Merlin promised.

She smiled. "I know."

The two shared an embrace before Merlin mounted Artax and followed the knights leaving the courtyard. It was decided that, to keep up appearances, Leon would lead the party until they got to the woods where Merlin would then take over. While they were gone, Gwen and Gaius would try their best to keep the king's kidnap from leaking out. They didn't need discord and unrest within their walls nor the possibility of a traitor delivering the news to one of their enemies.

Merlin, though still euphoric over his friends' accepting him, would not allow himself to fully celebrate until Arthur was safe and also in the know. He tried his best to hide his distress as they trotted through the Lower Town but his magic was roiling again, crying out in need to be used to protect its purpose. Merlin was terrified over what he would find once he was reunited with his master. One thing he knew for sure: if Arthur was in a bad way, there would be no rock or crag that would protect Odin from his wrath.

Once they were far enough in the woods, Merlin took the lead, pulling Artax to a halt.

"Merlin?" Leon questioned.

Instead of answering, Merlin focused his magic. He had never attempted this before but he was connected to Arthur in a very unique way so the spell shouldn't be too difficult. He'd come across it in his spell book a while ago and had been really eager to try it out. Well, now was his chance.

" _ **Drýcræft, néadhæs mín bebodræden! Ábeþecian ond bringan mec æt mín bregu, Arthur Pendragon!"**_ he cried.

The knights gasped as a swirl of gold erupted from Merlin's hand, shooting out like a ribbon, running across the forest floor and out of sight.

"Um, mate? Not that I'm not impressed," Gwaine began, "because I am – but – well – isn't that gold trail a little…"

" _Obvious?"_ Percival put in.

Merlin chuckled.

"Only those I wish to include within the spell can see it."

"Really?" Leon said, eyes wide.

"I can think of a hundred ways that can be useful," said Elyan.

"Merlin!"

"Yes, Gwaine?"

"You could find Morgana with this, couldn't you?"

The possibility lit the other knight's eagerness as they turned to the warlock. Merlin hated to squash their hope but it needed to be done. He may be powerful – and desirous for them to know he was no daffodil – but he wouldn't declare such arrogance. Pride was a man's downfall.

"No, Gwaine, I couldn't."

"What? Why not?"

"She's a High Priestess, Gwaine," Merlin explained as he set Artax into a trot. "She's not dumb enough to leave herself vulnerable. She's shielded herself from such spells. I couldn't track her this way even if I tried."

And so began the questions. The knights were very curious to learn all they could about Merlin's magic and, while he was happy to provide answers, there was a part of him that felt guilty doing so without Arthur being present. He just had to tell himself that later, when the time was right, he could sit down and tell Arthur everything. Then, hopefully, the king wouldn't hate him.

They followed the trail at a steady pace. Merlin would have driven the horses hard the whole way but Leon's wisdom in pacing themselves stopped the warlock from doing anything rash. It wouldn't do to reach Arthur and have horses that were entirely spent. Still, there were times when his magic would spike and the warlock would cry out, holding his heart as it throbbed in pain. The third time this happened, Gwaine demanded he explain what was going on.

"It's Arthur," Merlin reluctantly admitted. "Something awful is happening to him."

"How do you know?" demanded Leon, worry burying into his forehead.

Merlin really didn't want to get into the whole Emrys and the Once and Future King prophecy; he felt that was something he needed to share with Arthur first.

Shaking his head, he said, "All I will tell you is that my magic is connected to him."

"Does this have to do with what you said earlier," asked Elyan, "about Arthur being your destiny?"

Merlin hadn't expected them to remember that. Frowning, he vaguely answered, "Yes. We need to keep moving."

And he spurred Artax into a canter, ending the possibility of further discussion.

When they reached Deorham, the knights stuffed their red capes into their saddle bags; it wouldn't do to be seen trespassing into another's territory. While King Alined was a friend to Camelot, he was a shaky one. The man desperately wanted war and if he could find a reason to start it, he would snatch the opportunity up faster than a stray dog stealing a piece of meat.

They traveled until it became too dark to safely continue. Merlin could have used magic to light the path but he took some of Leon's earlier wisdom. If he exhausted his resources now he'd be worthless when rescuing Arthur later. He had to preserve his magic for his king, even if it occasionally would surge under his skin with a plea to do something. Every time this happened, Merlin would clamp down on his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut, forcing himself not to panic. He knew Arthur was hurting but he didn't know how badly. He desperately tried to think positively but his magic was making it rather difficult to do so.

They made camp in a small cover of trees. Elyan and Percival went to gather wood while Gwaine and Leon volunteered to fill the waterskins. This left Merlin to see to the horses and finish setting up camp. As he started undoing the straps on Leon's pack, he had a sudden idea. The knights knew about him now. Normally what would take him half an hour could be done in seconds. Grinning, Merlin's eyes flashed gold. The bedrolls removed themselves from their respective horses and unfurled before falling gently to the ground. Satisfied, Merlin tended to the horses, magicking a couple brushes to rub down their bodies while he gave them food and drink. Elyan's horse had a rock wedged into one of its shoes. With a little bit of magic, it wiggled free, releasing the stallion from further discomfort.

"Merlin?"

The warlock stilled before turning to see that Percival and Elyan had returned with large piles of wood. Both of them were watching the brushes move up and down the horses' coats without aid. Merlin swallowed.

"Well, seeing that you now know…" he began.

Percival smiled. "I don't see why you can't be yourself, Merlin."

"Yeah," Elyan agreed when he noticed Merlin shift uneasily, "we're certainly going to need time to get used to it… but don't feel the need to hide on our account."

Merlin's anxiety lifted with a small smile.

"You're really okay with it?" he felt the need to ask anyway.

"Yes, Merlin," Percival assured as he set his pile of firewood down.

Merlin looked at the wood and then his smile grew. "In that case…"

His eyes gleamed a golden hue and the firewood spun around on its own, forming a pile for easy burning. With another instinctive spell, a fire immediately leapt into being, happily beginning to consume the wood. Percival and Elyan stared at the proceedings incredulously.

"Now that's not fair!" Gwaine called as he and Leon emerged from the trees with their arms loaded down with full waterskins. "You started using magic without us!"

Merlin smiled. "There's plenty more I can do, Gwaine. You haven't missed much."

He then waved his hand and the cooking pot and several ingredients from within his travel bag danced through the air. Thus began the process of making dinner.

The knights watched with fascination as Merlin's magic worked to create a delicious stew, the ingredients throwing themselves into the boiling pot hovering over the fire. When the soup was ready, bowls filled themselves before gliding over to each knight who took their portion in stunned silence.

Merlin sat fiddling with a stick, poking the fire and anxiously watching his friends' reactions. He knew they accepted him but he still couldn't help fretting over what they thought. It also felt really weird to be openly displaying magic. Part of him was screaming out, _"No! This is wrong! You're supposed to be hiding, remember!"_ and another was enticing him to do more, _"Let them see who you really are. You know you've always wanted to do this. Nothing's stopping you anymore!"_

Merlin sighed.

"Why the long face, mate?"

Merlin glanced up to see the knights watching him. Cheeks turning red, Merlin looked down, refocusing his efforts on poking the burning logs.

"I just keep waiting for it," he muttered.

"For what?"

"For the moment all of you reject me," he confessed. From their hurt expressions, he hastily explained, "Look, my whole life I've been taught that if I ever revealed who I truly was then I would be hated, hunted, and killed. You're all knights of Camelot. You're supposed to eradicate sorcerers from the land. By allowing me to practice magic around you, you've all become traitors yourselves."

"Then so has Queeny," Gwaine pointed out. "Won't the princess love that, knowing his wife was totally supportive of using magic to rescue him."

"He's going to find out soon, Gwaine," Merlin sighed, rubbing his eyes. "The connection I mentioned earlier – I keep feeling that Arthur is in serious danger. I fear –" He paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "I fear that Odin is torturing him."

"If he is, he's going to wish he'd never been born," Elyan muttered.

Merlin looked up, his eyes flashing dangerously. The knights unconsciously leaned back. Merlin's whole countenance looked positively frightening in the firelight: his brow furrowed, his eyes burning, his lips curled up in anger.

"No truer words have ever been spoken, Elyan," he whispered, his voice dark and powerful.

Percival shared a nervous glance with Leon. At this exact moment, though none of them could believe it, they were scared of their friend. Merlin looked like he could murder someone. Gwaine shamefully wondered if he had. None of them dared ask what Merlin was planning to do. Part of them didn't even want to know. Merlin, sensing their unease once his moment of righteous anger passed, bit his lip and returned to his soup.

The night remained tense, each of them unsure exactly what to say or what to do. Even Gwaine stayed silent. After a while, Merlin couldn't take the tension anymore and stated he was going to bed.

"I'll take care of the dishes," Percival offered.

"Don't bother," Merlin called over his shoulder, casually waving his hand.

Magic lifted the pot, bowls, and utensils into the air. Water leapt out of a spare waterskin and rinsed them clean while a bit of wind dried them off. The dishes flew back into each of the packs they had originated from. This was all done in less than a minute, Merlin not even watching as he settled onto his bedroll with his back to the fire. The knights glanced at each other, stunned.

"Just how powerful is he?" Elyan whispered.

Merlin shut his eyes and bit his lip.

 _More than you can possibly imagine_.

He'd heard the tremor in Elyan's voice. Though they were still his friends, they still harbored fears. He couldn't really blame them though. They'd been taught all their lives that magic was a boon, an evil, a corruption of the soul. It wasn't like all those teachings could disappear overnight. He'd have to be patient with them. He was tempted to stop using magic but Elyan's earlier words came to mind: " _don't feel the need to hide on our account."_

That's right. He shouldn't hide. The only way to prove that magic could be a force for good was to continue to expose himself. He also needed to trust them as they did him. They were letting him use magic. They were giving him a chance. He needed to give them one too. Feeling more content, the warlock settled in to rest, forcing his worries of Arthur to the back of him mind so he could sleep.

::

It took another whole day to reach Cornwall. Surprisingly they hadn't run into any trouble along the way – a record, as Gwaine kept pointing out. Merlin had a suspicion that this wouldn't be the case once they had Arthur and were trying to get back to Camelot; peril never seemed to stray far from them after all.

They settled near the edge of the trees, observing the capital city in the fading sunlight where Merlin's golden trail disappeared behind the thick gray walls.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Gwaine asked. "Or are we just going to go in there in a blaze of glory and miraculously rescue the princess?"

"The walls are high," Leon observed, "scaling them will prove difficult."

"We could infiltrate a patrol," Elyan suggested.

"That would be too obvious," Percival countered. "The knights of Cornwall know each other well. They would not recognize us."

"We could replace some of the guards instead," Merlin proposed. "They're all wearing helmets and it shouldn't take much effort for me to remove them from the parapets. Then you can steal their clothes."

The knights shared a wary glance.

"You want to throw them from the wall?" said Leon nervously. "Merlin, I didn't take you for the aggressive type."

"I'd knock them out and slow their descent!" Merlin hastily explained, appalled that they would think him so barbaric. "I'm not heartless, Leon! I wasn't planning on killing them."

The knight immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's alright," Merlin sighed. "So, do we want to do that or just enter the city and pretend to be travelers?"

"We're going to have to enter the city regardless," said Leon. "We have to get a feel for its layout or we'll get lost trying to get Arthur out – which we can't afford to do."

"I wish we could just storm the place and get it over with," Gwaine grumbled.

"We all do, Gwaine, but we can't act rashly," Elyan consoled. "If word somehow reaches Odin of a rescue attempt he might just kill Arthur then and there."

Merlin swallowed. He shared Gwaine's opinion but Elyan's words prevented him from simply giving his magic free reign. He could not risk Arthur. He wouldn't.

"Alright, if we're going to enter the city, I suggest you all change into something less conspicuous," he said. "Even though you're not wearing cloaks or a coat of arms you look like knights."

Shuffling back further into the woods, they removed their chainmail and left it hidden under a rather thick bush. They also felt it best to enter the city without horses; horses tended to draw more attention since it indicated you were rich enough to own one. Merlin cast a repelling spell on their temporary camp that would protect the area so that none would stumble upon it and take their steeds for themselves. The five of them then began the trek on foot towards Odin's city.

When they reached the gates, the guards didn't even give them a second glance. The poor devils had no idea they'd just let five enemies into their midst. Merlin's eyes took in every detail of the outer wall. It was thick, incredibly so, but not unbreakable. He'd used magic to break through strong rock before. The main gate they'd come through seemed to be the best escape route since the doors were large and provided the quickest way back to where their horses were tied. Merlin's golden trail weaved its way through a very large market filled with people who stepped through the mist without knowing it was there. The people seemed well enough off but an undercurrent of fear lingered in the background, becoming more prominent any time they walked passed a guard.

"Odin doesn't treat his people well," Percival quietly observed, voicing what the others had also deduced.

"I'm not surprised," Gwaine replied. "This place is just as dark and dismal as the last time I visited. At least the ale is good."

"We're not here to drink, Gwaine," said Leon.

"No, but if we just continue to wander around, we're going to draw attention," Gwaine countered, "Especially since it's getting dark."

"A large group of us would," Merlin agreed. "Look, why don't all of you go to the tavern and I'll scout out the rest of the trail?"

"No, Merlin, it's too dangerous," Leon began.

"Leon, in case you've forgotten, I have magic. Not to mention, out of all of us, I know how to behave like a servant. I can easily get into the citadel, scope it out, and come back. And I can later use magic to show you what the structure looks like."

"You can?" Percival asked in surprise.

Merlin smirked and Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm beginning to see the real you, mate," he chuckled, "and I like what I see. Go on then. We'll be in the tavern."

Before Leon could call him back or change his mind, Merlin slipped into the crowd, following his trail as he went. The citadel was made of the same dark stone as the outer wall. It wasn't as attractive as Camelot castle though it was just as large. The structure was more square; even the rounded towers were made out of sharp angles. Merlin didn't like it at all. It felt dark, oppressive, and powerful. The castle servants running about possessed the same undercurrent of fear as the people in the market, each of them keeping their heads bowed low and their eyes on their feet. Merlin's golden trail swirled off to the left to an open corridor that led into the castle. Making sure to copy the other servants and pretending to seem like he had somewhere to go, he hastened to the open corridor and slipped into the castle with ease.

The corridors were lit with torches due to lack of many windows, the dark walls covered with tapestries of Odin's crest and battle scenes of Cornwall's history. Merlin passed a few servants and even a couple courtiers but none gave him a second glance. He was just another face. Secretly pleased that he'd come so far without any trouble, he kept his steady pace, heading down a staircase before turning right then left. There were fewer servants here and no courtiers in sight. A pair of guards stood at the end of the hall before another set of stairs. They were looking right at him and Merlin had a feeling they were not going to let him pass. He decided to play dumb.

"What are you doing here, boy?" one of them demanded.

Merlin decided to ignore the insult. He was just as old as them! Boy indeed!

"S-Sorry," he pretended to stutter. "I just s-started and I fear I took a wrong turn."

"Where were you heading?"

"To the p-physician's chambers," he said at once.

"You should have taken a left instead of a right at the last corridor," the guard on the right said, annoyed.

"Oh, r-right, how silly of me," Merlin chuckled. "Um, what leads down t-there?"

"The dungeons," the one of the left said before smirking, "and if you don't get lost we might just throw you in a cell for disturbing the peace."

Merlin fake swallowed and backed up, holding up his hands in surrender.

"No n-need for that," he said hastily, turning on his heel and pretending to stumble, "I-I'll be on my way."

He heard them chuckling darkly at his supposed cowardice. Merlin waited until he'd turned the corner before a look of triumph filled his face. He'd found Arthur and, if they played their cards right, it wouldn't be too difficult to get to him. Merlin had counted at least ten guards as he retraced his steps out of the citadel and into the main courtyard. The knights could take them down easily. There might not even be a need for his magic after all.

Reaching the local tavern a while later, he slipped inside and found the knights occupying a table in the corner.

"What did you find out?" Elyan asked.

Merlin looked back and forth.

"Not here – too many ears."

"I bought us a couple rooms," said Leon. "We can talk there."

"But I'm not finished!"

"Later, Gwaine," Leon commanded as they all got up.

Gwaine stared at his tankard with longing before he downed the whole thing in three large gulps. Grinning, he wiped his chin and followed the others hiking the steps to the upper floor; no point in wasting a pint of good ale, after all.

"I figured it would be less suspicious to stay in the city rather than having the guards see us leave and then return the next morning," Leon explained as they settled in the larger of the two rooms he'd booked.

"It'll be easier to take them out from the inside and find a place to stash them too," Percival added with a smirk.

Merlin nodded in agreement.

"Good idea."

He then launched into describing Odin's citadel, using magic to make a miniature image of what he'd seen. The knights were fascinated. While the image wasn't like a mirror, the pale orange outlines depicted everything with just as much detail.

"There weren't that many guards," Merlin stated. "We can easily infiltrate the place and perform a rescue."

"But what about the dungeons themselves?" asked Leon.

"I couldn't go down the steps," Merlin reluctantly admitted.

"That could complicate things," Percival voiced.

"Leave the complications to me," stated the warlock. "My magic will be more than enough to make up for any snag we run into."

"Or we could infiltrate the castle, learn the guard routine, and then stage a rescue attempt," Elyan proposed.

"No," Merlin vehemently objected. "Arthur's life hangs in the balance this very moment, Elyan. There's a chance he might even die tomorrow! The only reason we're going to disguise you as guards is so we can get _in_ to the castle undetected."

"But what about getting back out?"

"Leave that to me."

The knights shared a look.

"Merlin," Leon hesitantly began, "Are you _sure_ you can get us out?"

Merlin's gaze turned to steel. "I am not being overconfident in my abilities, Leon. I would never risk Arthur for something so petty as arrogance. Trust me; every one of us will leave the city unharmed."

Merlin's commanding confidence was not lost on any of them. They'd seen bits and pieces of this poise before in the manservant but never in this magnitude. It was both impressive and inspiring and none of them could dispute or refute it.

"Alright," Gwaine muttered with a grin, "when do we want to do this?"

"The guards will be more alert at night," Elyan mused, "so I say during the day."

"I agree," said Leon. "It's our best bet."

"Then we should take advantage of these rooms and get as much sleep as we can," Merlin decided. "We're going to need all the energy we can get."

"Right, I claim this bed," Gwaine declared, shoving Elyan off the mattress so he could lie down.

Elyan glared at him before rolling his eyes and settling on a different bed in the corner near the door.

"You take this one, Merlin," said Leon. "Percival and I will be in the room next door."

"Alright."

Merlin removed his boots and lay out flat on the straw mattress, thinking of Arthur and hoping he was alright.

"Hey, Merlin? Could you get the light?" Gwaine asked.

Smiling, Merlin's eyes flashed gold and the candle flame instantly vanished.

"Thanks mate," Gwaine grunted, turning on his side after flashing him a toothy grin.

Merlin got into a more comfortable position, his thoughts instantly returning to Arthur.

 _Hold on just a little longer, Sire. We're coming._

* * *

 **Spell:** Magic, obey my command! Find and lead me to my king, Arthur Pendragon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you very much for the various expressions of love you've all given to this little tale of mine. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint anyone and if any of you ask, no it's not the last. There's more to come, folks. :) Please enjoy and leave a review!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

Chapter 03

Arthur hung limp. His arms had been pulled up on either side of him, forcing him to stand, but he'd lost all strength in his legs so his upper limbs were supporting his full weight. Alice's healing spells had fixed Rowen's most recent brutality but the meager routine of two hours he'd been given to sleep between the torture and healing sessions was not enough to spark any sort of recovery.

He was dying.

He knew it, Alice knew it, and Odin definitely was aware of it.

The physical body could only endure so much before it simply gave out and, while Arthur's spirit was still strong, his flesh couldn't take much more of this. He figured he had maybe another hour before Rowen would return for another round of torture. He _should_ sleep but he was haunted by all the things he had yet to accomplish.

His rule was going to end when it had barely begun. His marriage to Guinevere had been pure bliss – the happiest two years of his life – but they still hadn't produced an heir. The Pendragon line was going to die with him. He hadn't made alliances with all the kingdoms yet, there were still bandits roaming the White Mountains, and then there was the matter of magic – for in the few quiet moments he'd spent with Alice, Arthur had been forced to see it in a different light.

He'd lost count of how many times she'd healed him these past three days. All he knew was that she was the reason he was still alive. Her eyes were full of tears every time she worked her magic over his broken bones and mutilated flesh. Such compassion couldn't be faked and Arthur found himself weakly thanking her each time she finished nursing his wounds.

His body had been battered so much it was a wonder his bones could even be restored at all! And the last time Rowen was here he'd cracked his skull; the torture session had been cut short since Odin didn't want Arthur to die just yet. Alice was there at once, healing him before the internal bleeding could kill him. That had been a terrifying moment, feeling his life slipping away.

He really didn't want to experience that again.

Arthur prayed his men would rescue him today because he had a feeling that if they didn't it was going to be his last. His body involuntarily shook, aching with exhaustion. He was so _tired_. Arthur closed his eyes and tried to sleep, ignoring the dull ache coming from his shoulders. He somehow managed to succeed for he was in the midst of sweet oblivion when icy water was dumped over his body. He gasped awake, his eyes rising to meet those belonging to Rowen.

"It's a new day, Your Majesty," he grinned. "I gave you an extra six hours to rest. Well, are you not going to thank me for my generosity?"

Arthur refused to answer. Rowen scowled.

"King Odin will be joining us shortly but he said I could begin without him. Why don't we welcome him with those lovely screams of yours?"

He pulled the dagger from his belt and Arthur unconsciously winced. At Rowen's approach, he pressed himself against the wall, his body shaking involuntarily, the rattling of the chains holding him betraying his fear. _Please don't touch me! Please don't touch me!_ his soul silently cried. The point of the small knife cut into his chest, carving its way down his body, leaving a trail of ruby red blood. Arthur hissed and bit down on his tongue. Rowen continued mutilating his skin for another minute before growing bored. He yanked out the mallet and smashed it into the king's side. Ribs broke and Arthur screamed.

"That's more like it!" Rowen cried with glee, hitting him again.

It was as he screamed a second time that, in a local inn – though Arthur didn't know it – his salvation woke.

::

Merlin had been stuck in what he thought was a nightmare as he watched a man carve into Arthur's skin. His magic began to boil but, when the torturer pulled out a mallet and broke his king's ribs, Merlin somehow knew that what he was seeing wasn't his fears. It was reality. The mallet was forced into his king's other side and Merlin's magic broke open like a floodgate. He awoke with power exploding from his body. A wave of magic swept across the land and every sorcerer and sorceress trembled, feeling the raw power of Emrys.

Merlin vaguely heard Gwaine and Elyan cry out his name but he ignored them. His eyes had become an eternal gold and his skin glowed as his power manifest itself in physical form. He pulled on his boots and ran out of the inn. People screamed at the sight of him, leaping out of his way in terror. Guards dressed in brown tunics sporting Odin's crest – a fierce wolf's head – came charging towards him. Irritated by the minor annoyances, Merlin flicked his wrist. The guards went flying, their screams cutting short as their bodies reconnected with the ground. Mass panic filled the streets at the display and the people fled from the might of Emrys, slamming their doors and cowering behind thin strips of wood. He could easily kill them all but none of them had harmed his king; they were oppressed people living under a tyrant and currently not his concern.

Merlin noticed the doors to the citadel had been hastily drawn shut, some of the guards having run ahead to warn the others of the vengeful sorcerer in their midst. Did they really think stone and wood could stop him? Agitated, Merlin thrust his hand forward and a blast of magic slammed into the doors, shattering them to pieces and exposing a small squadron of terrified knights and soldiers within.

"If you value your lives, you will let me pass!" he warned, his voice echoing strangely even in his ears.

"We will not allow you to come another step, sorcerer!" the nearest knight bravely declared.

Merlin studied them. Somehow, he could see into their hearts. They were good men, just misguided in their loyalties. They didn't deserve to die.

" _ **Swefe nu,"**_ he whispered.

They dropped to the ground. To the observer, it looked as if that one spell had killed them all – and many thought this. The courtiers and servants screamed and scattered while further soldiers and knights roared in outrage. They charged towards him, brandishing their swords. Merlin's irritation returned. They were keeping him from his goal!

" _ **SWEFE NU!"**_ he bellowed, his magic blasting through the entire courtyard.

The spell put to sleep every person in line of his vision, their bodies falling right where they were, the burdens in their hands tumbling to the floor. Unconcerned, Merlin weaved his way through the sleeping forms and ran to the other side of the courtyard. Behind him, the Knights of Camelot stared after his retreating back in disbelief and horror.

" _Merlin,"_ Gwaine whispered in shock.

"He just – they're all –" Leon faltered, unable to speak properly.

Percival bent down and touched the nearest guard.

"I don't believe it," he muttered.

"What?" Elyan fearfully cried.

"He's _asleep!"_ Percival quickly examined the next man. His chest was rising and falling. "They're _all_ asleep!"

Relief flooded through the knights and then shame. Merlin wasn't a killer; they should have remembered that. But the _power_ he'd displayed…

"I've never seen anyone like him," Leon weakly stated.

"Come on," Gwaine muttered. "He might not need us but I don't want to miss anymore of the action."

They ran across the clearing to where Merlin had disappeared, finding more slumped bodies in their wake.

Meanwhile, Merlin had reached the dungeons, having knocked out the guards when they tried to hinder his progress. At the base of the stairs, he entered a dank corridor lined with torches and wooden doors. His magic reached outward in search of his king but it wasn't necessary because, a split second later, the hall filled with Arthur's agonized screams.

Merlin ran, passing a rather shocked elderly woman, until he stopped at an open door. Odin was there, standing off to the side, a maniacal grin plastered on his evil face. The man from Merlin's earlier vision blocked Arthur from view, his arm rising and falling as he directed a whip into his victim's flesh.

Merlin had experienced a few moments in his life before where his magic had taken over his senses and lashed out. It happened with Nimueh when she killed Gaius and it happened when Agravaine tried to kill him. But what he was feeling now was _nothing_ compared to those previous moments. Fury consumed his entire being and his magic raged, flaring around his skin. He stepped into the room and Odin finally noticed him. Before the enemy king could even move his hand to his sword, Merlin flicked his finger and his body slammed into the wall.

"What the –?"

Arthur's torturer turned around and froze. Standing a foot away from him was the most terrifying creature he had ever seen in his life. Glowing gold eyes filled with fury, skin aglow with aurelian light, Emrys stood in magical glory.

" _You harmed my king,"_ he growled, his voice echoing around the small space.

Fear alone caused the man to strike out. The whip, still drenched in Arthur's blood, came soaring forwards. Without a flicker of movement from the warlock, the weapon vanished in a puff of white smoke. Arthur's torturer drew forth a dagger and flung it at Merlin but it too, merely disintegrated into vapor. Before the man could pull out the mallet that had broken his king's ribs, Merlin closed the distance and seized him by the throat. His captive began to struggle, reflexively clawing at Merlin's hands, but the moment he touched him his fingers burned. He screamed in pain yet Merlin held no sympathy.

This man had every intention of killing the Once and Future King. He was therefore a threat to Albion that would not rest until he'd accomplished his designs. He needed to be eradicated or Destiny would never be.

Merlin's magic flared and the man's skin began to smoke and bubble. He screamed in agony, his limbs flailing. But it was useless; his physical strength was no match against the magic of Emrys. A hole appeared in his chest; he was being destroyed from the inside out. Merlin's eyes flashed white gold and, a moment later, the torturer was gone.

He'd been wiped from existence.

Odin remained unconscious on the ground. Merlin had half a mind to kill him too but something within whispered that Cornwall's king was not meant to die by his hand. He turned his attentions to his king. Arthur was covered in blood, his skin mutilated and swollen, parts of bone visible in his arms and legs. His shirt was nothing but tattered remains hanging from his arms and torso. His trousers were riddled with tears and holes. The parts of his skin that were still peach were soaked in sweat. Just from observing him, Merlin knew that his right arm and left leg were broken, as were his ribs as well as his nose.

Face bloody, swollen, and covered in sweat, Arthur Pendragon weakly looked up into the eyes of Emrys. Fear did not swirl within the depths of those hallowed blue eyes but a mixture of relief and astonishment.

" _Merlin?"_ he weakly croaked before he lost all strength, his chin falling against his chest.

Merlin ran to him and gently lifted his head.

"Arthur? _Arthur!"_

The king was unconscious. Merlin checked his pulse. It was there but it was weak. Ignited with a need to protect and heal, the warlock's power surged and a knowledge he'd never known he'd had flowed freely through his brain. Healing spells fell from his lips, the magic wrapping around and seeping into his sovereign's battered body. Merlin watched as Arthur's cuts, bruises, and broken bones instantly healed, the swollen red skin returning to a healthy peach. The manacles supporting his body disintegrated but Arthur didn't fall; Merlin's magic sustained him, healing him through and through. Once the healing had done its work, Merlin repaired his tattered clothing good as new. He then held out his arms and Arthur drifted into them, his body encased in the same golden glow as Merlin's, his weight seeming as light as a feather. Merlin turned around and came face to face with the knights.

Their eyes were wide with incredulity and awe. At his approach they created a gap so he could pass. They followed him in silence, each contemplating what they had just witnessed – for they had seen it all and could hardly believe just how powerful their friend truly was.

As they left the dungeon, they were met by more of Odin's men. Thinking the warlock incapable of fighting with his arms holding an unconscious man, some of them foolishly tried to attack. Their bodies were blasted back a second later, slamming into the walls and remaining on the floor. After seeing this display several times, the rest of those dwelling in the corridors let them pass, pressing themselves against the wall. Some even whimpered when Merlin's golden gaze meet their own.

The Camelot party reached the courtyard and met no further resistance. None dared draw near. The power emanating from the golden sorcerer struck fear into every soul – except for the Knights of Camelot; they felt nothing but security and warmth coming from their friend.

Merlin carried Arthur through the city, passed the outer gate, and across the open field into the woods where their horses were faithfully waiting. The knights had silently feared the animals would spook at the sight of Merlin's glowing form but they welcomed his magic as if he were an old friend. Without a word, Merlin walked over to Artax and the knights watched in disbelief as his feet left the ground. It was like he was walking up an invisible staircase. He swung a leg over Artax's back and settled into the saddle, his arms still cradling Arthur to his chest, the king's head resting against his shoulder.

"We must go," he declared, his voice still echoing, "Arthur won't be truly safe until we return to Camelot."

The knights nodded without a word.

They rode hard all day and well into the night. Merlin's body remained aglow. The way he sat in the saddle; the only thing the knights could compare him to was a king. He didn't even hold on to Artax's reins. The horse simply knew where to go. The other strange thing was that even though they were in a full canter, Arthur didn't jostle about in Merlin's arms. He remained still and asleep, cocooned in the safety of the warlock's magic.

When they stopped for the night, Merlin once again descended an invisible staircase. He did not release Arthur, however. The others asked if he was tired of holding him but Merlin merely shook his head, his golden eyes soft with compassion but fierce with protectiveness. He refused to let anyone get anywhere near Arthur. It was like he'd become possessed with mother-bear syndrome (as Gwaine called it).

Merlin couldn't really explain what had happened to him either. All he knew was that his magic was in full control. While he could act and move, his magic was the one ultimately guiding his choices – and he was oddly content with that. It was like he was living on a whole new plain level. He was happy and not the least bit worried over Arthur. He knew the king was healing and dwelling in much needed sleep. He could sense the knights' unease, however, and decided to remedy that as he rested with Arthur at the base of a tree.

"He just needs to rest," he assured them, his voice still echoing. "He'll be fine once we return to Camelot."

"Merlin, I think we've all wanted to ask this but, why are you glowing?" said Gwaine, he being the first to gather enough courage to speak since they'd left Cornwall.

"I'm not entirely sure," Merlin confessed, "but I think it's because my magic is still guiding my decisions. That and it's protecting Arthur."

"We gathered that much," Percival muttered.

"Are you sure you don't want any of us to take over?" asked Elyan, taking a step towards him.

Merlin's magic spiked protectively and his eyes flared. A gust of wind suddenly pushed Elyan back.

"Wow, easy!" he cried, holding up his hands to steady his balance. The wind died.

"Sorry," Merlin apologized and they could see that he really was. "Arthur has been through a terrible ordeal. I don't think my magic is going to let anyone near him until it knows for sure that he's safe."

"So you're going to glow and talk like that until we reach Camelot?" Leon guessed.

Merlin nodded.

"But everyone will know your secret!" Gwaine protested.

The warlock gazed at his king with a sad smile.

"That doesn't matter," he whispered. "The only thing that does is Arthur."

Leon's frown was deep, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Merlin, the knights will try to attack you the second they see you at the city gates. They'll think you've done something to him."

"I know," Merlin muttered, "and if they do, my magic _will_ retaliate. No one is touching Arthur, Leon. I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do about that – not until my magic calms down."

"Will Gwen be able to touch him?" Elyan asked after a tense second passed.

Merlin pondered over the possibility before shrugging.

"Maybe; I won't really know until she tries."

Leon nodded grimly and came to a decision.

"Right; Elyan, you and I will ride ahead and alert everyone that no matter what they see, they are _not_ to attack Merlin. At least we can give them some sort of warning not to try anything."

"That's probably a good idea," Merlin agreed.

"Percival, Gwaine, travel at whatever pace Merlin feels is best," Leon ordered, "And protect him and Arthur with your lives."

"I think Merlin will be the one doing all the protecting, Leon," Percival chuckled, "but we'll still try our best to defend them should the need arise."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want anything to happen to Princess now that we have him back. Queeny would have our heads," Gwaine said while holding up a flask of ale, "Here's to a safe and innocuous journey!"

"Where did you get that?" Percival wondered.

"Please, Perce, you insult me. I never leave the city without it."

Leon scowled. "Gwaine, you are a Knight of Camelot!"

"Yeah, what of it?"

The First Knight glowered a moment more then sighed and shook his head in exasperation.

"Never mind."

It was hopeless to expect the rogue knight to give up the drink. The others chuckled and Merlin smiled before leaning his head back, his arms still protectively wrapped around Arthur's slumbering form. The knights set to work making dinner but Merlin refused to eat. He wasn't hungry – not when visions of Arthur's broken and bleeding body kept haunting his waking sight.

He had been so angry, so _vengeful,_ when he saw Arthur strung up and beaten like a common criminal. He had acted without thinking, completely obliterating his torturer. It had been so easy; _effortless_ , even. But now that he looked back in hindsight, Merlin could see and feel the torturer's terror just before he died. He'd been so scared.

Was it wrong that part of him felt the man deserved to feel terrified after everything he'd done to Arthur? That he'd deserved to die? Had he become the monster he always feared he was? And what of Arthur?

He'd seen him – blazing gold – using magic! What would he think of all this? The knights were clearly perturbed though they were hiding their feelings well. Gwaine and Percival seemed the least disturbed, though, and that brought Merlin some comfort. The warlock sighed, staring down at the glow covering his and Arthur's bodies. It was like a blanket, comforting and warm. He wondered whether Arthur would be content or terrified to learn he was surrounded by such power. There was no way of knowing how the king would react until he woke and Merlin didn't think that would be any time soon. Deciding to get some rest himself, he shut his golden eyes and drifted off to sleep.

::

Merlin woke the next morning to find Gwaine and Percival sitting around the fire. The former was the first to notice him shift.

"Ah, the sorcerer wakes!" he grinned.

"Warlock," Merlin corrected.

"Huh?"

"I'm a warlock, Gwaine."

"Right… and the difference between a warlock and a sorcerer is…?"

"One is born with magic, the other has the potential to learn it later in life," Merlin answered as he got to his feet.

Once again his magic prevented Arthur from being jostled about but, to Merlin's bewilderment, the king had somehow shifted in sleep so his head was now resting on his other shoulder. Merlin frowned.

"How did that happen?"

"Arthur moving around you mean?" Percival asked. "It was one of the weirdest things to watch, to be honest. Halfway through the night your arms dropped away and his body just lifted up into the air. He rolled around in the golden light and then slowly drifted back down. Once resituated, your arms moved back to support him again."

Merlin stared. Even to him, the experience sounded weird.

"I guess my magic decided to move him," he muttered.

"Well he slept through the whole thing," Gwaine chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen a man sleep while flying up into the air like a bird."

"And you've seen a man awake in that situation?" Percival teased.

"If you count getting flung backward by Morgana, then yes," Gwaine said, flipping his hair out of his face. "So, are you ready to go, Merlin? Leon and Elyan left about two hours ago."

It didn't take long for them to tear down camp and pick up on Leon and Elyan's trail. The world around them seemed to be in quite the cheerful mood. The sun shone down through the thick trees above, the forest critters chattered happily over their heads, and an unseen stream flowed merrily to their right. Everything was peaceful and Merlin sighed in contentment, feeling strangely connected to it all. It was as if the earth was celebrating.

They didn't run into anyone the entire day and the pattern of good fortune continued into the next. All three men were quite shocked by this. If any obstacle would hinder them, they were sure it would happen in Alined's lands, but they crossed through Deorham without incident and entered Camelot just before sunset.

"I think you're magic is keeping the bad guys at bay," Gwaine commented as they set up camp. "Like a good luck charm."

Merlin frowned in puzzlement.

"You could be right," he mused, "but I can't say for certain."

"Whether it is or not, we should be grateful," said Percival as he handed a bowl of vegetable stew to Gwaine; they'd run out of dried meat and neither knight felt it worth going hunting and leaving Merlin and Arthur alone. "I wasn't expecting to be in Camelot until sunset tomorrow."

"Expected an attack, did you?" Merlin playfully asked.

The large knight shrugged.

"Given the usual standard, the likelihood of making it through the woods without an interruption wasn't high." He smiled. "I'm glad to be proven wrong."

"We'll reach Camelot by noon if we set off at first light," Merlin mused.

"Then I'll take first watch," Gwaine offered, having already finished his soup.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat, Merlin?" asked Percival as he eyed the remains of his concoction.

Merlin shook his head. "Finish it off, Percival. I'm fine."

The two knights shared a worried glance.

"But how can you be?" Gwaine wondered. "You haven't eaten since the day before yesterday. A man can't go that long without something in his stomach!"

"Gwaine, really, I'm not hungry," Merlin stated. "Please, don't press me further. When I want to eat, I will."

His friend glared at him, his frustration only the product of concern. While grateful that they cared, Merlin really wasn't hungry. He could eat after Arthur was safe; nothing else mattered but getting the king back in his own bed in the heart of his kingdom. Only when he was sure that Arthur was secure would he tend to his own needs.

::

The sun had reached its zenith and Camelot stood before them with its white stone shining like a beacon. Merlin's magic was still in control, the golden shield around him and Arthur just as visible in the day as it was at night. Arthur had shifted back to his original position in Merlin's arms. He was still sound asleep and perfectly healthy despite not eating for days. Merlin wondered if he'd wake up ravenous. He knew how irritable Arthur became when hungry. Perhaps he should prepare something to be readily available for when he woke? Nothing calmed Arthur's petulance like food – well, besides Gwen that is.

The first traveler they passed was a merchant and he stared at them with wide, disbelieving eyes. When Merlin tried to send him a friendly smile, the man squeaked, tucked in his chin, and hastened down the road as fast as his cart could go without tipping over. The warlock's smile slipped from his face and he averted his gaze. The rejection wasn't unexpected but still hurtful – and it was just the beginning.

Even though Leon had warned the guards not to try anything, those standing at the gate would not let him pass, barring his way with their spears. The one on the right looked upon Merlin in contempt and the servant recognized him as one of the men who'd never really approved of him and his relationship with the king.

"I should have known," he growled, eyeing Merlin as if he were something vile on the bottom of his boot. "There was always something wrong with you, boy! A _sorcerer!_ What have you done to the king?"

"Let me pass, Eric," Merlin commanded, his eyes narrowing, "or I'll be forced to make you."

"Did you hear that, Hector?" Eric cried as he turned to his companion. "He threatened me!"

"Because you're being an idiot," Gwaine angrily retorted. "Now do as he says."

"We will not allow a known sorcerer into the city!" Hector declared.

Merlin rolled his eyes before his magic acted, seizing both Hector and Eric and maneuvering them out of the way like a puppeteer commanding his wares. Their faces were twisted in a mixture of fear and outrage as they moved against their will, their spear tips returning to point towards the sky.

"Release us!" Eric commanded.

"The spell should wear off in a minute or two," Merlin promised before urging Artax forward into the city.

"You've betrayed us all, _sorcerer!"_ Hector spat behind him.

Merlin closed his eyes and took a steady breath, trying to control his emotions.

"Don't listen to them, Merlin," Gwaine consoled.

The warlock remained silent, his back straight, his arms securing the only one whose opinion truly mattered.

His glowing appearance naturally drew the eye of every man, woman, and child they passed. Mothers gathered their children and rushed into their homes while men picked up anything they could use as a weapon, their muscles taut and ready to defend themselves if necessary. Camelot soldiers and knights drew their swords, staring with disbelief, horror, and rage from the betrayal of a man they once called their own.

Merlin's heart hurt. These were all people that he'd known for years; people that he'd grown to love and respect. He knew their names, their occupations, their likes and dislikes. He'd helped Gaius administer to them when sick. He'd petitioned their plights to the king when they believed their problems weren't large enough to voice. And yet, despite his endless kindness, they looked upon him now as an enemy.

The words "Sorcerer" and "Traitor" filled the air, sometimes whispered, other times bellowed. Merlin winced but didn't falter his course. All that mattered was Arthur. He had to remember that.

They reached the citadel where Gwen, the council, Gaius, Leon, and a handful of knights stood waiting for them; a runner had gone ahead and announced their arrival. The queen's eyes were wide as she watched Merlin rise from Artax and descend his invisible staircase, the king cradled safely in his arms.

"Merlin," she whispered as he approached, "is he…?"

"He's fine," he answered loudly so the others could hear.

" _Sorcerer!"_ one of the nobles spat. "He's harmed the king! Guards, arrest him!"

 _"BE STILL!"_ Gwen commanded, turning her furious gaze not only on the lord but also the men that had surged forward to obey him. The guards stopped in their tracks. "Lord Brennick, while I appreciate your desire in wanting to keep the peace, you are not the ruler of this castle. Jurisdiction falls to me when the king is incapacitated. Or did you forget that?"

Quelling under her fury, Lord Brennick hastily apologized.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," he muttered before glaring at Merlin in contempt, "but he is a _sorcerer_ – a traitor to the crown!"

"Merlin is _not_ a traitor," Gwen stated, eliciting shock from all in the vicinity. "He is an ally and a friend. It was he who rescued Arthur from his captors."

"The king was captured?" Lord Geoffrey inquired, surprised as well as concerned. "By whom?"

"King Odin of Cornwall," Merlin answered. "And, if you please, I'd like to get him to his chambers where he may rest."

"We're not letting you set one foot inside this castle, devil's spawn!" another lord cried.

Gwen turned about and addressed the council as a whole.

"The next person who dares insult Merlin will be taken to the dungeons! Am I clear?"

"But, my lady," one of them hesitantly protested, "can't you see? He is surrounded by _magic!"_

"I can see that, Lord Orin," she replied coldly, "and it is because of his magic that Arthur has returned to us at all. Merlin, take the king inside while I deal with these fools. Gaius, Elyan, accompany him in case any should attempt to hinder his progress."

Merlin climbed the steps, the lords leaping away from him as if he had the plague. It was the same inside the castle. His fellow servants, terrified as well as outraged by his betrayal, ran away at the sight of him. None dared approach. Merlin pushed his hurt aside and focused on his task.

"Merlin, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Gaius," he lied.

They reached Arthur's chambers and the glowing warlock placed his burden gently on the bed. Merlin stepped back and the golden glow pulled away from the king. Arthur's brow furrowed and he began to stir. His eyes opened for the first time in three days and he sleepily glanced around until his gaze fell upon his servant.

"Merlin?" he croaked, confusion coloring his tone.

Merlin smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"Welcome home, my lord."

A half-conscious smile lit Arthur's face before he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

The glow around Merlin's body instantly vanished, the warlock experiencing the strangest sensation of his magic rapidly receding under his skin. The once-visible raw power now curled up within his chest like a contented dragon, finished with its work and ready for a nice long nap. Merlin's body randomly convulsed and his skin broke out in a cold sweat. His knees shook violently beneath him and the world spun. His stomach churned and then he lost all feeling in his legs.

He fainted before he even hit the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Um... I may have gone and done something some people might not like too much but my muse ran away with me and I thought it both entirely possible and realistic for Arthur to go through some form of sexual abuse during Rowen's torture. I apologize to anyone in advance who might be offended or disagrees with what I've written for this chapter. To reassure you, I'm never going to go into deep detail about what happened - it's only mentioned.** **As always, thank you for your reviews and I hope you'll once again leave another.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

Chapter 04

When Arthur opened his eyes again, he was beyond confused; grateful, but completely bewildered.

He was lying in his bed in Camelot, not an ounce of injury covering his body, with an angel wiping a damp cloth over his chest and arms.

"Arthur?" Guinevere prompted, ceasing her administrations, her voice filled with worry.

Her hair was free, the curls falling about her shoulders, the tips brushing teasingly against his chest. Her eyes were round and filled with love, the brown depths windows to her compassionate soul. She was biting her lower lip – a sign of distress. The sun lit her from behind, encasing her in a halo of golden light. She was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen and tears pooled in his eyes.

"Arthur, are you alright? Are you in pain?"

He reached up and pulled her to his chest, holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her. His hand stroked her hair, reassuring him that this was real, that _she_ was real.

"Arthur?" she whispered, still concerned.

"I'm alright," he assured her, allowing her to lift herself up just enough to look into his eyes.

She studied him before cupping his face, her eyes filling with sorrow.

"My poor Arthur," she murmured, "what did they do to you?"

Arthur closed his eyes. He didn't want to return to that dark place, not when he was finally away from it. The haunted darkness of the cell, the pain of feeling Rowen carve, mutilate, and defile his body, it was too much. He swallowed painfully, his hands shaking as he forced his eyes open and sought comfort from his adoring wife.

"Nothing that I can't get over," he whispered before kissing her. "I missed you."

"And I you," she said, kissing him again. "I thought I'd lost you, Arthur."

"So did I," he reluctantly admitted. "But how did I get back? Did the knights rescue me?"

Guinevere frowned.

"You mean… you don't remember?"

Arthur's forehead scrunched. He forced himself to remember what happened and then, like a bolt of lightning, it all came back: Rowen whipping his already bleeding body – Odin slamming suddenly into the wall – Rowen turning around and attempting to attack Merlin – _Merlin_ , whose eyes and body were glowing gold, seizing Rowen and obliterating him with _magic_ – Merlin staring at him with aurous eyes and radiating with power the likes of which he'd never seen – Merlin smiling, welcoming him home...

A strange noise reached his ears and it took Arthur a moment to realize it was coming from him.

"Arthur, you need to calm down!" Guinevere cried, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "That's it, _breathe!_ Just breathe."

Arthur eventually regained control and pushed her away, holding her at arm's length.

"Merlin," he began, "where is he?"

Guinevere bit her lip.

"Where is he, Guinevere?"

The queen's eyes filled with tears.

"He's unconscious in Gaius's chambers."

Arthur pushed her aside and leapt to his feet. She reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Arthur, wait! Please, don't hurt him!"

The king saw her fear and was ashamed and slightly hurt that she would jump to such a conclusion. Taking her shoulders, he gently pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"There's no need to fear for him, Guinevere," he murmured. "I just need to see him."

Guinevere searched his eyes, seeking something. Finding it, she nodded.

"Then go to him."

Kissing her, Arthur left, not even aware that he was wearing nothing but trousers. His bare feet pounded against the cold stone as he rushed passed shocked courtiers and servants towards the physician's chambers. He passed Leon who cried out his name but ignored him. He needed to get to Merlin, to see him with his own eyes. Rushing down the steps two at a time, he reached Gaius and Merlin's abode. He threw open the door, startling Gaius and nearly giving him a heart attack.

"Arthur!" he admonished, holding his heart.

The king strode past and climbed the short steps before entering Merlin's room. His momentum suddenly vanished, his body seized as if it were frozen solid. Merlin lay on his small bed under a thin blanket, his face pale and drawn, dark circles clinging to his eyes. Arthur truthfully had been expecting his servant to still be lit with a golden glow. He most certainly hadn't been expecting this. Merlin looked exhausted, like he'd been through a week's worth of training with the knights. As he stared at this frail, skinny, and seemingly harmless man, it was almost laughable to compare him to his invincible golden rescuer.

Arthur observed Merlin's chest rise and fall, his thoughts consumed with confusion and hurt. His manservant was a sorcerer – a powerful one! All these years, he'd had a magic user under his very nose. It was somewhat insulting. How had he not noticed? Was he that unobservant? He'd always known there was something about Merlin, something he could never explain, but he never would have connected that something to _sorcery_. But it all suddenly made sense.

Merlin had never really been a servant; his essence simply could not mold itself into such a subservient lifestyle. He'd never been afraid to challenge Arthur either. He refused to be left behind when dangerous missions arose, he never did as he was told, and he had no sense of self preservation. The idiot had attempted to sacrifice himself for him so many times that Arthur lost count. A mere servant wouldn't do such things but a man containing unlimited power would. What Arthur wanted to know was why? Why had Merlin come to Camelot in the first place? Why had he sacrificed his anonymity for a king who had professed his hatred for magic? Why did he remain at his side and risk his very life for him?

Arthur slowly closed the door before collapsing into the chair propped by Merlin's bedside. He rested his head in his hands.

What was he going to do? Merlin was guilty of practicing magic and enchantments even though he'd done so to rescue him. He'd killed Rowen with what looked like very little effort and – though he really didn't want to admit it – that had truly frightened Arthur. For Merlin to hold such power… he could have toppled the entire kingdom in less than an hour!

But… he… _hadn't_ …

Arthur's eyes widened as he stared at his manservant in a new light.

Merlin had been alone with him more than anyone. He knew every secret there was to know about Camelot. He'd been a servant to the crown for nine years and yet he hadn't done anything to hurt Arthur or his kingdom. At least, not that Arthur had seen. It was possible that Merlin could be some kind of spy but Arthur scorned this thought immediately. Loyalty the likes of which Merlin had shown could not be faked. The idiot was too tenderhearted to be a traitor. And if he wanted to, he could have burned a hole through Arthur the same as he'd done Rowen years ago.

To think that Merlin was more powerful than him was profound; a reality the king had never imagined before. Which brought him back to the question again of what was he doing in Camelot? And what was Arthur going to do now that he knew Merlin was a sorcerer?

Guinevere had asked him not to hurt him and he'd promised that he wouldn't. Plus, he knew that he _couldn't –_ even if he was irate that the idiot had lied to him for so many years! Arthur stared down at his slumbering manservant and scowled.

"Who would have thought?" he murmured, "You've won even _me_ over, Merlin."

Because there was no way Merlin could be evil. Merlin was the source of strength Arthur always leaned on when his own was shaken. His wisdom had helped shape the kingdom. His good nature had lifted Arthur's spirits when he felt as if he were drifting into despair. And, most of all, he'd shattered Arthur's mundane prattish lifestyle and forced him to confront his weaknesses and become the man he was today. Arthur needed Merlin and he wasn't about to let some stupid law come between them.

The words of a kind healer in Cornwall suddenly echoed through his mind: " _Choice corrupts, Arthur Pendragon. It is what we do, not what we possess, that separates the good from the evil."_

Arthur weakly smiled. Merlin wasn't the only sorcerer out there that had used his magic for a righteous purpose. If it hadn't been for Alice, Arthur himself wouldn't even be sitting here. Merlin would have rescued a corpse. _Wait –_

Arthur's eyes flew down to his body and widened in astonishment. The only scars in sight were those he'd sustained in previous years and battles. Not a single outward result of Rowen's torture remained. Awed, Arthur looked up at Merlin, remembering that it hadn't been Alice who had healed his latest wounds but _him_. _Merlin_ had fixed his broken bones, healed his skin, and replenished his energy. Arthur felt like he could take on an entire army, he felt so good. _Merlin_ had healed him. Merlin had _saved_ him. A strange stinging came to the king's eyes and Arthur hastily wiped the wetness away.

Leaning forward, he took Merlin's hand and gently squeezed it.

"Merlin?" he whispered.

The warlock didn't stir. Undeterred by the lack of response, the king continued anyway.

"I am indebted to you, old friend… I would not be here if it wasn't for you. I know what I have to do now. I'm scared beyond belief – and I _am_ rather upset with you for keeping secrets – but I know that this is the right thing to do. I need your help though so… wake up…"

Arthur hadn't been expecting his weak command – more plea, really – to be heard but Merlin's eyelids flickered open and a pair of blurry blue eyes stared up into the face of their king.

"A-Arthur," Merlin croaked, a weak smile sparking happiness in his countenance, "you're safe."

Arthur smiled and squeezed Merlin's hand.

"Thanks to you."

The gravity of the situation caught up with the warlock and Merlin's happiness was replaced with panic and fear. He tried to sit up but was too weak to do so. Instead, he hastily tried to explain himself through gasping breaths.

"Arthur – what you saw – it – that is – my magic – I use it for you – only for you, Sire – You have to believe me!"

"Merlin, you idiot, calm down before you hurt yourself," Arthur ordered.

Merlin stilled.

"Yes, Sire," he muttered submissively, his eyes downcast.

Arthur frowned.

"Merlin, you don't think I hate you, do you?"

Merlin's eyes whipped upwards, searching the king's face.

"You don't?"

"Of course I don't! How could I?"

"But… I used magic."

"To save me."

Merlin's brow furrowed so Arthur decided to elaborate.

"While I was… tortured…" he paused, letting out an unconscious shiver. Merlin tightened his hold on Arthur's hand. The king sent him a tiny, appreciative smile before continuing, "Odin's physician healed me with magic – repeatedly. Her actions and magic were the only things that kept me alive. I would have been dead long ago if not for her. She helped me quickly realize the error of my prejudice and forced me to consider that not all who practice magic can be evil. Your rescue is proof of that to me. Did you come get me by yourself? How did you even know where I was?"

Merlin, however, was too shocked to answer. His lack of response gave Arthur pause. The king leaned forward anxiously.

"Merlin?"

"You don't hate magic," he whispered. "You don't hate me."

Arthur's gaze softened with fondness and exasperation.

"Of course I don't, idiot. I just said that."

Tears pooled in Merlin's eyes and suddenly his manservant was sobbing. Startled and unsure of what to do, Arthur shifted awkwardly and pat his hand a couple times. Then, with incredible strength, Merlin sat up and threw himself at Arthur, burying his head in his neck. Arthur sat frozen. Merlin was _hugging_ him! He had half a mind to throw off the emotional idiot but then he heard the words spoken through his choked sobs.

"You don't hate me… you don't hate me…"

Arthur's arms immediately reached up and enveloped Merlin in a comforting embrace; nobody was around anyway so no one would ever know. While he was still upset over Merlin's lies, he knew now wasn't the time to bring them up. Despite what the idiot might think, he wasn't entirely insensitive.

Merlin cried for a long time, releasing emotions he'd obviously struggled with for years. As he listened, Arthur couldn't even begin to understand exactly what the man had gone through. However, he could at least imagine what it must have felt like having to hide who you are from everyone you cared about. He had so many questions but they could wait. Right now Merlin needed to know that he cared and Arthur was only too happy to show that he did – in the privacy of Merlin's room, of course.

"Calm down, idiot," he affectionately muttered.

Merlin didn't respond but his breathing did. He eventually relaxed and a rhythmic pattern was heard as his chest rose and fell and his arms loosened around Arthur's torso. He'd fallen asleep. Shaking his head, Arthur lowered Merlin back down on the bed, pulled the covers over his exhausted body, and stood.

"Thank you, Merlin," he quietly whispered before leaving the room.

Gaius wasn't the only one in the main chamber when he emerged from Merlin's private abode. The Knights of the Round Table were present, each of them looking both apprehensive and happy to see him awake.

"Are you well, Sire?" Gaius was the first to ask.

Arthur cleared his throat, suddenly aware of his rather poor state of dress.

"Fine, thank you," he replied.

Leon surprised him by holding out one of his tunics.

"I thought you might want this, Sire," he smiled.

"Thank you, Leon," Arthur muttered before pulling it on. Assessing his men, he lightly coughed and muttered, "So, would anyone care to explain what exactly happened?"

"Well, Merlin has magic," said Gwaine.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I gathered that – and before you think I'm going to execute him, Gwaine, let me reassure you that, due to recent events, my opinion towards magic has drastically changed."

Gwaine snorted. "I bet it has; being rescued by it can have that affect."

"It's not just because of Merlin's efforts," Arthur countered as he glanced at Gaius. "There was another who helped me, whose skills literally kept me alive until Merlin arrived."

He then launched into a brief overview of what happened to him while in Odin's company. He didn't feel it important to discuss the exact methods of torture nor the extent of abuse he'd suffered from. He didn't want to revisit the horrors if he could help it. The healing sessions performed by Alice had made Gaius gasp and tear up. Arthur nodded to him but refrained from speaking of the physician and healer's personal relationship; he felt that was a private conversation they could discuss later.

"It is because of Alice and Merlin that I have decided that the laws of Camelot need to be altered," Arthur declared. "While the process is going to take quite a bit of time to modify, I am willing to lift the ban. Those who practice magic will no longer be put to death just for simply having it. I will meet with the council to discuss the necessary changes immediately."

"Thank you, Sire," Gaius whispered, choking slightly on a suppressed sob.

Arthur nodded to him while Percival pat his back. The other knights looked on Arthur with pride. The king smiled, happy to know that at least his most trusted friends supported his decision.

"And what of Odin?" Leon asked. "By kidnapping and torturing you, he has declared war on Camelot."

Arthur glanced back at the door hiding his manservant. He didn't want to make any form of decision concerning Cornwall without hearing what Merlin thought of the whole situation first.

"We will not retaliate for now," he answered. "Leon, gather the Council. There is much we must discuss and I'd rather clear Merlin's name sooner than later – I trust that his body glowing with magic wasn't just seen by me and Guinevere."

"Everyone saw," Percival admitted.

Arthur nodded gravely.

"Then let's reassure those old fools before any of them can draw to the wrong conclusion. Percival, Elyan, I'd like for you to remain here and protect Merlin should anyone try anything. If needed, we can get your testimony at a later time."

The two were only too happy to oblige. Arthur returned to his chambers in need of shoes and clothes other than just a thin tunic and trousers. Guinevere was still there when he returned, her form spread out comfortably on the bed though she was clearly a bundle of nerves. She sat up at the sight of him, worry in her eyes.

Arthur smiled sadly at her.

"Would you really believe me to be so shallow as to banish Merlin after all he's done?"

There was no malice in his tone but Guinevere flinched as if he'd yelled at her. She shamefully looked away. Arthur closed the distance between them, lifting her beautiful face with his forefinger. Regret darkened her eyes and embarrassment flushed her cheeks.

"Arthur," she began but he silenced her with a kiss.

"I know the source of your worries," he stated, "but there is no need to fear any longer, Guinevere. Recent events have forced me to reconsider my prejudice. While I am angry with the idiot for keep this from me, I don't hold it against him. I must meet with the Council. Will you join me? There are a few things that must be discussed."

Pride and love radiated from the queen as she stood and wrapped her arms around him.

"I will follow you no matter what, Arthur," she vowed.

Arthur kissed her.

"I know."

Twenty minutes later the king and queen entered the council chambers arm in arm. The men within seemed to be bursting with things to say and, sure enough, when Arthur opened the meeting several started shouting at once.

"Sorcery has infiltrated our very walls!"

"Your manservant is a traitor!"

"We must act before we are all murdered in our beds!"

"He is the spawn of the devil!"

Arthur let the shouts go undeterred until someone dared place Merlin in the same league as Morgana. Standing abruptly, the anger radiating from the king was enough to quell even the most pompous of the lords.

"The next person to insult my manservant will be thrown into a cell personally by me!" he warned, glaring at them all. None dared speak up but he could see the worry, anger, and fear on their faces. "While we are here to discuss what is to be done concerning Merlin and his magic, I also feel it important to clue you in on the events of the last three days so as to stop you from making any further _grievously_ _mistaken_ _opinions_ concerning the man. You will hear an account from me and then from my most trusted knights. After that I will make propositions and I expect each of you to give honest but _civilized_ opinions. Am I clear?"

There was a resounding "Yes, Sire" spoken throughout the room. Arthur sat back down and began to share what he already had with the knights and Gaius – again skipping over the details of the torture he endured. Many of the men sitting around the table stared at him with confusion since the king clearly did not display any outward evidence of torture. Understanding lit their eyes, however, when Arthur described the appearance of Merlin and how he used his magic to kill his torturer and heal him. The knights then gave their side of the story from when Merlin revealed his magic to them (Guinevere confirming her presence during the reveal) to how he singlehandedly saved and healed the king.

"Merlin didn't really need us but he trusted us to accompany him anyway," Leon finished. "His loyalty and devotion to Arthur cannot be questioned."

"And it definitely shouldn't be taken lightly," Gwaine added.

"Has the boy ceased… glowing?" asked Lord Orin.

"Merlin's magic retreated within him once he knew the king was safe," Gaius confirmed.

"But why was he like that in the first place, Gaius?" Leon wondered. "The only glow I've ever seen from sorcerers before is when their eyes change color."

"Merlin is not your average sorcerer," Gaius reluctantly stated, warily eyeing a few council members whose prejudice towards magic clearly shown on their aged faces. "He has great power and has devoted it only to the king. I have heard of a magic bond that can be created between a sorcerer and someone or something they hold dear. I believe this was why Merlin knew where to find Arthur and when the king's life was in grave peril. His magic manifest in its strongest form and protected him until it was sure he was safe."

Why did Arthur get the feeling that part of Gaius's explanation was a load of tripe? Maybe it was because of the way he'd slightly fidgeted? Or maybe it was because Lord Geoffrey of Monmouth was sending his old friend a skeptical frown? The others, at least, seemed to believe the physician – although none of them were happy about it.

"While I thank the boy for rescuing you, Sire, I fear his motivation for doing so is not for the good of Camelot," Lord Brennick voiced.

"Forgive me," interrupted Sir Pelleas, "but are you implying Merlin's loyalty to the king has been nothing but a ruse?"

"Yes!"

Several knights sitting around the table snorted at once.

"Allow me to put your fears to rest," Sir Bores declared. "Merlin has been King Arthur's servant for almost a decade. He has had multiple opportunities to enchant, threaten, and kill him and yet our king still stands. Why would a powerful sorcerer live as a servant for years and allow a king to ridicule, abuse, and order him about – begging your pardon for saying so, Sire," he added.

Arthur, however, was grinning.

"No offense taken, Sir Bores," he slightly chuckled.

The councilors looked slightly unnerved by his lack of upset towards the knight's slight but Arthur didn't care. Every knight in the room shared Sir Bores' opinion. And why shouldn't they? They'd seen the interactions between him and Merlin in every shape and form – unlike the Council. They understood and that's what mattered to Arthur.

"Merlin could have killed me many times – I'm sure anyone would want to once they had the chance to muck out my stables." The knights all laughed and, remarkably, a few of the lords faintly smiled. "I know this may seem hard to believe, gentlemen, but Merlin is not someone we should fear. He is loyal to me and it would be a disservice if I banished or executed him after he liberated me from captivity.

"What we should be asking is why he would do so in the first place? Why expose himself as a sorcerer, rescue a king whose kingdom rejects magic, and then return him to said kingdom? If Merlin were in league with Morgana or any other evil sorcerer, why not take me to them? Why not leave me to rot in Odin's dungeons? Why did he not reveal himself years ago when Camelot was under and subjected to magical threat? I can tell you why. It is because there is not an evil bone in that man's body. He is the bravest, strongest, selfless, most compassionate man I have ever met and from this day forth is under my protection."

"But you can't protect a sorcerer, Sire!" Lord Garris protested. "It is against the law!"

"The law," Arthur declared, "no longer stands."

There was an immediate outcry. Several councilors leapt from their seats at once, shouting of enchantment and Merlin's immediate arrest. Arthur slammed both fists down on the table as he too leapt to his feet.

" _ENOUGH!"_ he roared, his voice echoing throughout the room, rendering immediate silence from all present.

He stood with his shoulders squared, his eyes blazing with righteous fury, and his mouth set in a grim line. Authority radiated from his person, suppressing every ounce of discord and opposition. In that moment, the Once and Future King was visible for all to see and it was awe-inspiring. Every man feared and respected him, unable to look away from the impressive sight.

"I cannot stand by and support a law that is hypocritical and based off the emotion of fear," Arthur declared. "None of us have magic and therefore cannot understand the terror evoked by such a law. Yes, we have suffered at the hands of sorcerers, but is it hard to see why? We have persecuted and hunted their kind like animals, treating them as if they were an entirely different species. We do not understand them and therefore label them as evil and untrustworthy. Would this not motivate someone to seek revenge?

"Imagine if someone suddenly decided that being born noble was evil and rancorous, feeling the need to purge such people from the face of the land. Is this not preposterous? You cannot declare otherwise, gentlemen, without placing a noose around your necks. From the knights' testimony concerning his reveal and what he has told me himself, Merlin was born with magic. He cannot help the fact that it flows within his veins. Would it not therefore be right to declare that the laws concerning magic in Camelot are unjust? Is it not necessary to change them, to alter them so they are fair to these people that we have terribly misunderstood?

"No matter the protest, I will not be swayed from my decision, my lords and good sirs. I am lifting the ban on magic and will place laws into effect that will be fair and just for _all_ my citizens be they magical or otherwise. I cannot afford to live and govern a people with laws that are bigoted and unmerited. The changes start today! We will reconvene tomorrow to discuss further what I feel is a long overdue decision. This council is dismissed."

The hall was still and then someone started clapping. Arthur blinked as _Gwaine_ of all people rose to his feet. His applause was soon joined by Leon, Pelleas, Bores, and every other knight situated around the table. Then, to further the king's bewilderment, most of the lords added to the praise. Baffled, Arthur turned to Guinevere to see her eyes shining with unshed tears and a glorious smile on her dark face. She dipped her head slightly and, somewhat dazed, Arthur returned the gesture. He hadn't been expecting this. He'd just spoken from his heart. Feeling uncomfortable, he held up his hand, ceasing this surprising approval from his men.

"Thank you," he simply said, not knowing what else to say.

Gwaine grinned. "Keep up with that kind of motivation and even the Sarrum will be willing to talk peace with you, Princess."

"Shut up, Gwaine," Arthur muttered though he was grinning. "Go on then, get out of here! I don't want to see your ugly face until tomorrow – and you'd better be sober!"

Gwaine laughed but then he bowed, showing everyone that while he was still free-spirited, his respect for his king was genuine. The action was repeated by the knights as they each took their leave. Some of the councilmen inclined their heads while others stared at him in slight uncertainty before exiting the room. Soon it was just Arthur, Guinevere, and Gaius.

"I am so proud of you, Arthur!" Guinevere declared as she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "You were simply wonderful, my darling!"

"I just stated how I felt," Arthur honestly replied. "I wasn't aiming for a standing ovation."

"No, but your words inspired everyone in this room, Sire," said Gaius, reflecting the same pride Guinevere felt. "You took twenty years worth of prejudice and destroyed it in one speech."

"But not everyone seemed enthused about my decision," Arthur countered.

"While that is true, they cannot blindly hide behind the belief that all magic is evil in future arguments," Gaius stated, "and that is all thanks to you. Thank you, Sire, for opening their eyes and forcing them see."

Arthur remained unsettled as he muttered, "I may have opened their eyes, Gaius, but their hearts remain closed."

"Leave it to Merlin to open them," Guinevere suggested before slyly adding, "he opened yours after all."

Arthur couldn't help smiling. "Indeed he did, the idiot. But he isn't readily available at the moment to do such a thing, is he?"

"Merlin will be up and running before you know it, Arthur," Gaius promised. "He overexerted himself is all – and speaking of which, I would really like to know exactly what Odin's man did to you to determine whether you really are as fine as you say."

Arthur frowned as panic began swirling within his chest; panic and shame.

"Gaius, there really isn't a need to go into the details," he hastily replied. "I'm fine. Merlin took care of me."

"Arthur, please, as your physician it will put my mind at ease – that and Merlin isn't known for being successful in his healing spells."

Arthur inwardly cursed. He _really_ didn't want to go into the details of what he went through with anyone. But Gaius was his physician and he knew more about Merlin's magic than he did. If he said Merlin's healing skills weren't up to snuff, maybe it was worth it to share what had happened – even if doing so tore his dignity to shreds.

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed, "but I don't want anyone else to know the details."

He glanced at Guinevere, hoping not to find disappointment and hurt on her face from his hint of excluding her. He was therefore grateful when she sent him a sad but understanding smile. She kissed his cheek again.

"I'll be in the library should you need me."

Arthur sent her a small nod. She squeezed his fingers encouragingly.

"Shall we go to my chambers, Sire?" Gaius suggested.

Arthur silently complied by following the physician out the door, dread filling his heart.

::

Arthur sat on the physician's workbench, his head hung in shame. It had taken about an hour to explain to Gaius everything that had happened to him. Rowen had spared no expense, the worst and most degrading torture being the sexual abuse Arthur had endured. His voice broke several times during that part, his eyes shut and his hands clasped firmly together. Part of him was shaking by the time he'd finished and, though he would never admit it to anyone, a tear escaped his eye.

"Odin was never there when he... defiled me," Arthur whispered. "I don't think he even knew about it."

Gaius surprised him by wrapping the king within the safety of his ancient arms. In a rare display of open fatherly affection, the physician rubbed the back of Arthur's head. The tears he had been trying so desperately to suppress broke free and Arthur found himself sobbing into Gaius's robes, his body shaking violently as he latched onto the man he'd always considered a second father.

"Shhhh," Gaius consoled, "it's alright, Arthur. Such atrocities have, unfortunately, been included in torture before."

"I k-knew it was a possibility," Arthur sobbed, "but I never thought…"

He couldn't finish the sentence. He'd never thought it would happen to him. He was royalty. Such fears had never been entertained in the past because the likelihood of them happening to a man of his station were slim to none. They usually were experienced by the everyday rustic. But him? Arthur was silently glad Merlin had killed Rowen. He didn't want anyone to know just how much that man had broken him.

Warmth suddenly flooded the king's soul and he pulled away from Gaius, his eyes instinctively moving to the door of Merlin's room. To his horror, it was open and his manservant was standing in the doorway. The look on Merlin's face was a mixture of rage and anguish, tears falling freely over his cheekbones. Arthur froze. Merlin had heard everything. Oh Albion, _he'd heard everything!_

The shame that licked at Arthur's heart was becoming too much. He looked away, unable to face his servant any longer. Another pair of arms replaced those belonging to Gaius as the physician moved aside so Merlin could comfort his sovereign.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered. He sounded as broken as Arthur felt. "If I hadn't gone to Ealdor, none of this would have happened."

Arthur's shame was temporarily tossed to the side.

"You think this is _your_ fault?" he asked, incredulously.

Merlin pulled away, confused by Arthur's reaction.

"Of course it is."

Arthur's eyes filled with anger.

"Merlin, don't you _dare_ try to take the blame for that _monster's_ actions!"

Merlin inwardly flinched at the word 'monster' but argued, "How can I not? It's my fault you were kidnapped and tortured in the first place! I'm meant to _protect_ you! It's my destiny to serve and keep you safe but I failed."

Arthur wasn't going to pretend he understood everything Merlin was talking about but there was one thing he needed to clear up immediately.

"You're an idiot," he stated, surprising his servant into silence. "You cannot be responsible for the choices of others, Merlin! Rowen was the one torturing me in that dungeon not you. You _saved_ me. And if it weren't for you I would have died… broken… and… _alone_ ," he added in a whisper. "I… _please_ , Merlin, _no one_ can know of this."

"You'd think I'd tell anyone?" Merlin asked, appalled as well as hurt.

"No," Arthur murmured, "but I need to hear you promise me just the same. I don't want to speak of it ever again. I want to put it all behind me. Can you agree to that?"

"Sire, ignoring your demons might not be the best way to cope," Gaius countered.

"I DO NOT WANT TO DISCUSS IT!" Arthur vehemently shouted.

He was king! He was not weak and he _would not_ cry or complain or cower. What was in the past was in the past and it _would_ stay there!

"I gave an account of what happened to me only because you are my physician, Gaius. Merlin may have overheard but I trust the fool not to say anything to anyone _– or else."_

"I swear on my mother's life I won't speak of it to anyone, Arthur," Merlin solemnly promised and, despite the web of lies between them, Arthur believed him.

"I, too, will refrain from ever bringing it up unless you do so first, Sire," Gaius vowed.

"Good," Arthur muttered, rubbing his face and trying to regain some of his former dignity. "Now, what is your diagnosis concerning my health?"

Gaius sighed. "Physically you are perfectly fine."

"But?" Arthur prompted, noticing the physician's hesitation.

"Torture tends to leave trauma, Sire, and there may be things that trigger those specific memories. Your mind and spirit still need to heal from the horrors you've faced."

"What are you saying?" Arthur demanded.

"You may find yourself in situations that will spark a psychological attack and make you believe you are back in that dungeon with Rowen."

Arthur had heard of this kind of thing before. He'd even experienced some of it himself; the first time he'd killed a man and when he'd raided his first druid camp. He'd had nightmares for weeks. Sometimes he still did. He knew how to handle himself when those happened though and he said so to Gaius.

"While those events were indeed traumatic for you, Sire, they were nothing compared to what you have recently gone through. It may take longer than you think to overcome the demons within your mind."

"If I have issues you'll be the first to know," Arthur stated. "I want you to monitor me, Gaius – discreetly, of course. I can't show such weakness to my subjects."

"Merlin can help, Sire," Gaius stated.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "How? With magic?"

"No – magic can do many things but it cannot cure the mind. No, what I meant was that he can keep an eye on you better than I can."

Arthur sighed. While he didn't want to admit that he relied on Merlin, he could see Gaius's point.

"Alright but, remember, we speak of this to no one. If I do have an… _episode_ … knock me out and stash me away somewhere out of the public eye – don't look so pleased about that order, Merlin."

"I'm not," Merlin denied.

Arthur scowled. "Sure you're not. Now, there are other things I need to do. Merlin, fetch two dinners from the kitchens and meet me in my chambers."

"Yes, Sire," he replied. He made it all the way to the door when he paused and looked back. "Arthur? Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

The king tried to look annoyed but his gratitude leaked through.

"I'm fine, you idiot," he murmured, unable to fully meet his eyes, "Now get going."

Merlin still looked concerned but left anyway. Arthur sighed and pulled on his shirt. Though clothed, he felt extremely exposed. Gaius placed a hand on his shoulder and though Arthur flinched he didn't shy away.

"If you ever need to talk about it, Arthur, do not refrain from doing so. I speak as your physician when I say this, Sire. It is not good to bottle such things inside. You come straight to me. I don't care if it's the middle of the night. You come and find me."

"Or Merlin?" Arthur guessed.

Gaius smiled and nodded. "Or Merlin."

The king let out another weary sigh and nodded in consent.

"I will."

He stood and almost made it to the door when he turned and found Gaius staring at him, a mixture of worry and fondness on his ancient features.

"Thank you, Gaius," he whispered.

Gaius bowed low.

"You're welcome, Arthur."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

Chapter 05

"I do not want to be disturbed unless it is an absolute emergency," Arthur told his guards once he reached his rooms. "Merlin is the only person allowed through these doors."

The guards shared a look before the one on the right asked, "What about the queen, my lord?"

"Please inform my wife I wish for her to use the Queen's chambers until I come for her later."

"Yes, Sire," they bowed.

Arthur shoved the doors closed and began to pace. This day had already left him emotionally and physically exhausted but he didn't dare put this off any longer. The conversation that was about to take place was one he was both dreading and looking forward to but he also hoped it would be the perfect distraction for the dark memories he'd just shared with Gaius; he needed something to take his mind off the horrors and clearing things up with Merlin was the best way to do that.

The door swung open and Arthur froze mid-step, his eyes widening a fraction as a very different door sprang to the forefront of him mind. His heart started to pick up but, at the sight of Merlin, it immediately calmed. Arthur composed himself, hoping Merlin hadn't noticed his temporary terror.

"You're late," he said in way of greeting.

Merlin raised a skeptical brow. "It's only been ten minutes. Did you miss me that much?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

His manservant grinned as he set the plates on the table before going over to a cupboard and taking out two goblets and a jug of water. Arthur sat in his customary seat but when Merlin stepped back he motioned for him to sit too.

"But I thought Gwen…?" Merlin began in surprise.

"While I would much rather enjoy her company tonight, I have to settle for yours. Now sit down."

Merlin stared at him a moment more before slowly and hesitantly sliding into the chair at his right. He made no move to touch the food in front of him.

"Eat, Merlin."

"You first, Sire."

"Just shut up and eat."

Merlin pursed his lips but obeyed his master and hesitantly placed a piece of chicken in his mouth. Arthur picked up his own fork and ate a couple potato chunks. An awkward silence descended upon the pair but neither really knew how to break it. It was the first time Arthur had ever felt this way around his manservant and he didn't like it at all. The problem was he had so many questions but he didn't know where to start; that and he was once again stewing over the fact that his best friend had been lying to him for as long as he'd known him!

After a fourth of his plate was empty, Merlin glanced at his king and gave a fake cough.

"What?" Arthur demanded a little testily, looking up from the carrots he was chasing with his fork.

Merlin bit his lip and looked away. "This feels strange."

"…Yeah…" Arthur agreed, sorrow and anger warring within his heart.

"Look… Arthur…" Merlin began but faltered.

They stared at each other and the king decided he was too distraught to continue forcing food down his throat. Pushing his plate away, he stood up and left Merlin sitting at the table.

"Arthur?"

The king held up his hand. "Stay there," he commanded. Merlin stilled. "I mean, if you're still hungry, you can eat but I've had enough."

"You've barely touched anything."

"I'm not hungry."

"Arthur, you need to eat."

"Don't tell me what to do, Merlin!" Arthur snapped and turned away, running his fingers through his hair. Covering his face, he took two deep breaths and then spun around. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Merlin's shoulders slumped and his eyes lowered to his plate.

"Is this my trial, Sire?" he whispered.

"What? _No!_ Merlin, I'm not condemning you–"

"You would if you knew everything I've done!" Merlin interrupted, his voice bitter and angry.

Arthur's frustration had reached its apex.

"Do not be so impertinent as to assume you know how I will and will not react!" he angrily shouted. "You have _no right_ to condemn me when you haven't even given me a chance! Does our friendship mean so little to you? Do I?"

Merlin was on his feet in an instant, his chair toppling behind him with a crash.

"You mean _everything_ to me!" he snapped. "How _dare_ you assume you do not!"

"THEN _TRUST_ ME!" Arthur bellowed, throwing his hands in the air. "For once in your life, _TELL ME THE_ _TRUTH!"_

" _THE TRUTH?!"_ Merlin shouted, _"YOU WANT THE TRUTH? FINE – HERE IT IS! I WAS BORN WITH MAGIC!_ I grew up believing I was a _freak_ , a _MONSTER!_ _My very existence_ is against your law! But I stayed in Camelot because it's my destiny! I'm a slave to it _and_ Fate and _nothing_ I do will _ever_ change that! Both made sure I saved your life the first time we met and I was rewarded by becoming your _servant!_ Thus began _years worth_ of being punched, poisoned, pelted with fruit; running around following orders for both you and Gaius; fulfilling my destiny of keeping you alive so you could become the Once and Future King; getting my heart repeatedly broken as people I loved died in my arms; fighting countless amounts of magical creatures, vengeful witches, and stupid bandits – all while having to live as a shadow and pretend I'm a fool, hiding who I really am because I'd be executed if I was ever found out! Because Destiny and Fate ruled my life from the second I drew breath!"

Merlin ceased his tirade only because his anger and frustration had mounted to the point he could no longer speak. Angry tears rolled down his pale cheekbones, his eyes a stormy sea of pain, loneliness, and loss. His limbs shook as he wiped at his face while taking several calming breaths.

Arthur made no move to say anything.

How could he? He was stunned. Never in all his years had he seen Merlin snap like this. His docile manservant was nowhere to be found, replaced by a man who had carried years of fear and rejection within his soul and was finally able to release it in a storm of shouted words.

He was still in shock when Merlin suddenly let out a weak, wet chuckle. He shook his head and brokenly smiled. It was the saddest smile Arthur had ever seen.

"Who would have thought that amidst all of the trials and heartache I would eventually embrace the hardship wholeheartedly?" He looked up and his eyes softened, his smile disappearing as his tone grew solemn. "My motivation for serving you completely transformed in the first year I was your manservant, Arthur, because I quickly realized that behind that prattish exterior you were actually a good man. Destiny and Fate may have originally told me to serve you but that's no longer why I do. I serve you because I _believe_ in you. I care a heck of a lot about you, Arthur. You could even say that I love you."

Arthur pulled a face and Merlin laughed at his flabbergasted expression.

"Not in _that_ way, dollophead! I meant as a brother," he elaborated before growing solemn once more. His unique blue eyes flashed with unwavering loyalty and Arthur found himself spellbound by the gaze. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. Merlin squared his shoulders and boldly declared, "I would follow you to the ends of the earth were it required, Sire, and I would gladly give up my life in a heartbeat if it meant sparing yours. I, and my magic, belong to you, my lord. Anything you ask of me, should it be within my power, I will do. If you want to banish me, I'll willingly go. If you decide to end my life, I will not raise a finger of resistance. And if you wish for me to remain as your servant forever, I will _gladly_ do so. Do with me as you see fit, Sire, for my life and my magic are forever yours to command."

If these words of submission weren't startling enough, Merlin completely floored him as he presented the king with the most elegant bow he'd ever seen. It wasn't full of pomp and circumstance nor was it given in mockery and jest. It was one hundred percent heartfelt and genuine, offered at the waist, the right hand over the heart and the left behind the back. After a moment Merlin straightened and stood proudly but submissively, both hands now behind his back, his chin lowered, his eyes on the ground; the picture of perfect subservience. Not even George could have pulled off such a remarkably flawless display.

It was a good thing Merlin couldn't see him because, for the first time in his life, Arthur Pendragon was completely and utterly speechless. His heart was in his throat and hot tears pricked threateningly at his eyes. Never in his entire existence had a man shown him such loyalty and devotion as Merlin had. Arthur felt the genuine love his manservant held for him and he shamelessly reciprocated those feelings. He had never before admitted it aloud but for many years he'd considered Merlin to be the little brother he'd always wanted. There were many things Merlin still needed to tell him but there was one thing Arthur was absolutely sure of and he needed Merlin to know it too.

Gathering his emotions, he crossed the room and threw his arms around his unsuspecting manservant.

"Sire?" Merlin gasped.

"Idiot," he mumbled into his shoulder with as much love and affection as he could muster.

Merlin relaxed and slowly raised his arms. Arthur didn't move. Though he wouldn't admit it, both of them needed this and it served as the best way to show Merlin how much he meant to him. Emotional comfort had never really been one of Arthur's strengths – except when it came to Guinevere – but for Merlin he was willing to break through his stoic shell.

Eventually, though, the touchy-feely moment became too much and Arthur pulled away, coughing into his hand. Merlin's smile was hesitant but pleased.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur grumbled, his cheeks flaring with heat as he folded his arms.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to!" Arthur let out a long sigh before again lowering his defenses. "Look, Merlin, I need to know and I want specifics because that nonsense you shouted earlier didn't make much sense. I want to know – _in detail_ – everything you've done for me, for Camelot, and the kingdom you've helped me build."

Merlin wiped the tears from his cheeks, his elation disappearing.

"It's a long story," he gravely warned.

Arthur crossed the room and sat in one of the two chairs in front of the fireplace, indicating for Merlin to sit in the other.

"Then, by all means, get started," he invited as well as ordered.

Merlin hesitated before sitting down. "Alright," he muttered, "but I did warn you."

Merlin's tale was indeed longer than Arthur had been expecting and there were many times when both men had to pause to gather and control their emotions.

Learning that it was Merlin who released the Great Dragon and later lost Balinor, his father, was one of the harder things Arthur had to deal with. Killing Freya was worse. Knowing he was responsible for the death of his best friend's love; it nearly destroyed him. He couldn't understand how Merlin could forgive him for such a thing. If it had been Guinevere… Arthur truly didn't know if he would have been able to do as Merlin had done, forgiving him so completely.

Then there were the countless scars Arthur forced him to reveal with each tale that involved physical injury. Merlin's entire body had been mutilated by years' worth of wounds, burns, and lacerations, leaving the king devastatingly appalled and in the depths of humility. Not even his most seasoned knights had so many scars. That each was a result of his devotion to _him_ … it broke Arthur's heart. No wonder he'd never seen Merlin shirtless; it would have been a dead give-away that his manservant was much more than what he seemed.

When Merlin confessed that he felt responsible for Morgana's dissension Arthur adamantly repeated Alice's earlier words of wisdom _: choice corrupts an individual and what one does dictates whether they are good or evil_. Arthur assured Merlin with all the energy of his soul that he truly believed he was not to blame for what happened to Morgana. It had taken the warlock a solid five minutes to calm down before he could continue retelling his heroics.

Learning that Merlin was Dragoon the Great left Arthur in a state of bewilderment, hurt, and anger. However, as he allowed Merlin to explain all his reasoning for becoming the old man and the involvement of his uncle and sister in the death of his father, Arthur's anger disappeared and he was once again struck with grief, regret, and a need to atone. He winced as he recalled exactly what he'd told Merlin shortly after his father died: that magic was pure evil. He apologized many times for saying that and Merlin, the insufferable idiot, forgave him immediately.

The earliest rays of a new dawn had started to light the room by the time Merlin finished. The two men lapsed into silence, Merlin drowning in misplaced guilt and Arthur in absolute awe. The king eventually looked up at the remarkable man sitting opposite him and compassion and love swelled within his breast. His anger was entirely forgotten, destroyed by the undeniable truth that the man sitting opposite him was the greatest he had ever met.

"Merlin." He waited until he had the warlock's full attention before he leaned forward and grasped his forearm. "Everything you've done… I know now – and I can't even begin to find words adequate enough to describe my gratitude."

Merlin stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You don't despise me?"

Arthur smiled with exasperated fondness and shook his head.

"It's as the dragon told you: a half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole. I could never despise you, Merlin. What you've done… it goes beyond any form of loyalty expected of anyone. I can't thank you enough."

"I didn't do it for glory."

"I know you didn't," Arthur kindly replied, "though I can't understand why you would devote yourself to me when I clearly do not deserve you."

"Don't say that!" Merlin fiercely protested. "You're the greatest king there is! The only one worth dying for – as Gwaine would say."

Arthur chuckled and shook his head.

"I fail to see what you and Gwaine do but, I promise you, I'll do everything I can to be the king you deserve, Merlin. And I'll start by telling you I've repealed the ban on magic."

"You – _what?_ " Merlin weakly gasped.

Arthur smirked at the look of utter befuddlement on his manservant's face. He looked as if he were about to faint.

"I repealed the ban, Merlin," he repeated. "I cannot support a law I no longer believe in and I can't bring myself to execute my best friend."

"Arthur…" Merlin warmly began but the king cut across him, hastening away from another tender moment; he'd had enough of those today.

"This means the laws will have to be rewritten," he said, standing up and beginning to pace, "and I expect my First Advisor and Court Sorcerer to supply at least an outline of the new laws at the next council meeting. You have two days, Merlin, so I suggest you get started."

" _Wait - WHAT?"_ Merlin yelped. "But – I'm your manservant! I can't be your First Advisor! I'm not a noble!"

"You have more nobility than anyone on earth, Merlin," Arthur declared, "and if you're worried about being my advisor then I suppose I'll just have to fire you from being my manservant. Yes, that's the only way after all. You're fired."

"You can't fire me!" Merlin cried, leaping to his feet. "Who'll wash your clothes and polish your armor?"

"I'll find someone else," Arthur said dismissively.

"But I'm _supposed_ to be your servant!" Merlin argued. "I told you I'd be happy to be so until the day I died."

"And you still will be," Arthur stated. "The First Advisor and Court Sorcerer still serve the king, Merlin. They're just given more respect and recognition than a manservant. And both positions will require you to be right beside me – which is where you belong."

Merlin shook his head in protest, causing Arthur to scowl. What did he have to do to get it through the idiot's thick skull? Closing the distance between them, he took Merlin's shoulders and looked him right in the eye.

"You were not meant to live in the shadows, Merlin. You are Emrys. You stand _beside_ the Once and Future King not behind him. I will no longer allow you to hide when you are meant to be seen. I want people to see how much you mean to me, idiot, and I can't do that if you refuse to take the positions only you can fill within my court."

Merlin stood still, his eyes wide and glassy, a mixture of wonder and fear on his face.

"I never thought…" He faltered, shaking his head. "… I'd almost lost hope…"

Pained by this admonition, Arthur squeezed his shoulders.

"Then let me make it up to you now, old friend. _Please_."

He waited on bated breath, hoping beyond hope that Merlin would say yes. He was so much more than a manservant and Arthur vowed to spend the rest of his life helping him see just how much he meant to him.

A pregnant moment passed and then Merlin's eyes narrowed, a hint of mischief entering into his countenance. Arthur noted the change at once.

"Are you _really_ sure you want me to be your Court Sorcerer?"

Arthur rolled his eyes but silently he was letting out a cheer of victory.

"Yes."

"You know that means I'm going to be experimenting with magic _all the time."_

Arthur shrugged and tried not to grin.

"I'm willing to deal with it since magic is who you are."

Merlin's lips twitched. He was fighting the urge to smile just as much as Arthur was but his eyes were twinkling with mirth and happiness.

"And you really want me to be your First Advisor?" he pressed. "Because I'm not going to go easy on you; others might be utter daffodils and refuse to call you a cabbagehead but I have no such qualms."

"No change there then," Arthur replied, unable to hide his grin any longer. "The only difference is you'll have the authority to do so."

Merlin's grin broke free too, matching that of his king's. He folded his arms and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"You know, when you put it _that_ way, being First Advisor sounds really nice."

"Then you accept my proposals?"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders.

"Even if I said no you'd make me do them anyway."

Arthur laughed and clapped him on the back. He really wouldn't have but the teasing response was too tempting for him to resist.

"You're learning."

They shared a brotherly smile but then Merlin's face fell and he hesitantly bit his lip.

"What is it?" Arthur prompted before teasingly adding, "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"

"No! But it's all rather sudden," Merlin confessed before tentatively adding "And I feel, given everything that's happened, it would be an easier transition if we _waited_ on fully promoting me – until the new laws have been written and distributed among the people, that is."

Arthur frowned. He wanted Merlin to be recognized _now!_ But the warlock did have a good point. The changes they were about to make would shake the whole kingdom. Perhaps it would be best to ease the people into the new vision they held.

"Alright," he agreed. "But you're still writing the new laws and you _will_ attend all future council meetings as my advisor."

Merlin groaned. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, Merlin," Arthur grinned. "If I have to sit through all those boring meetings then so do you. You are going to have to advise me, after all."

"I hate you."

Arthur's grin grew, if possible, even wider.

"I expect you'll hate me more once permanently in your new positions. Now, even though we've used up the whole night, I want you to sleep for the rest of the day."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be doing the same thing, _Mer_ lin," Arthur drawled. "If you haven't noticed, I'm exhausted. You've kept me up all night. I have half a mind to make you stay awake and polish my armor."

"I'll take the sleep, thanks," Merlin stated, heading for the door.

Arthur smirked.

"Merlin?"

The warlock paused. Arthur's smug smile transformed into a serious line and he nodded to him, attempting to be stoic. Merlin's eyes danced with humor but he respectfully bowed his head.

"Get some rest, prat."

"You too, idiot – that's an order!"

Merlin left, leaving Arthur alone for the first time in hours. He stood there for a moment, reveling in the euphoria of it all. Change was coming and he was rather surprised to find himself excited for it. His emotions, however, rapidly transformed when he truly realized he was all alone. Dark memories started to creep from the corners of his mind and the king felt the need run. Promptly leaving his own chambers, he sought out those belonging to the queen. He knew he'd feel safe with her because Guinevere had been the first face – besides Merlin – that he'd seen since his liberation (and he wasn't about to call Merlin back when the idiot needed sleep).

He was very pleased to find the queen awake when he entered her chambers unannounced a minute later. She was rather surprised to see him and he could hardly blame her; it was just after dawn, after all, and normally he would still be dead to the world. Her old servant habits, however, would not be swayed so she still woke with the sun. Controlling his breathing and racing heart, Arthur smiled apologetically as he slipped onto the bed and kissed her in greeting.

"Have you been up all night?" she inquired.

Arthur nodded, rubbing his tired eyes. His anxiety was already retreating, the solace of her presence acting as the soothing sanctuary he'd hoped for.

"I take it you and Merlin have figured things out then?" she asked with an amused eyebrow raised.

Arthur lay down on the bed and yawned.

"It took all night but, yes, we did," he answered.

Guinevere smiled, a combination of relief and delight causing her brown eyes to dance.

"I told the knights earlier that there was no need to barge in and stop the two of you from shouting at each other."

Arthur winced, remembering the beginning of his and Merlin's long conversation.

"Did you hear what we…?"

"Only bits and pieces," she admitted, "but I knew it was just both of you venting your frustrations." She then leaned over and kissed him. "I'm glad you made up."

"Me too," Arthur agreed before pulling her gently towards him. "Stay with me?"

She settled against his side and wrapped her arm around his chest.

"For as long as you need," she promised.

Arthur kissed her curls one last time and instantly fell asleep, secured in mind and body that he wasn't alone somewhere else.

* * *

 **I've had this written for a while now but I planned on it being much longer than it is. Unfortunately I'm not sure how long it'll be before I'm well enough to write more for you guys so I thought I'd give you what I have. You see, I just found out I'm pregnant and morning sickness has been killing me. It's been difficult for me to concentrate on anything, honestly. I'll reassure all of you that I have no intention of abandoning this story (or The Sorcerer's Stone for those of you who are also reading that) but I do ask for your patience because updates are going to be much slower for a while. Thank you all for your love and support. There will be more chapters from me, I promise.**


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